Brad threw his battered Samsonite into the back of Hope's SUV. It landed right next to her pricey designer leather tote. That about said it all. What the hell was he doing? Why the hell was he bringing her home to confuse his family and prolong his agony? And the bigger question, why the hell did she want to go to Wisconsin?

Hope locked the door to her building and headed his way. Brad took a long swallow and tried to steady the thrumming of his heart. Why the fuck did she have to wear those snug jeans that clung to every tantalizing curve? True to his word, he hadn't touched her since that day in the storeroom. Aside from the kiss she'd laid on him when she was feverish and he was certain delusional, he hadn't touched her at all.

Could he do this? Could he have her this close and keep it casual for the five days they'd be together? He'd meant what he'd said. He wouldn't come for her--not until she could give him something of herself. The offer to accompany him was good, but not good enough.

"Ready?" Hope asked and climbed into the passenger side.

Brad closed her door and rounded the front of the car. "I guess." She smelled so damn good--that lemon and ginger that could drive a sane man to insane feats. "Everything okay at the store?"

Hope fastened her seatbelt. "Um hum. Rose is doing well. Aside from Saturday, the few days before Easter are usually slow. I moved the date of the spring fashion show to next weekend so I'll be back. All's well," she said and met him with a smile.

Brad started the car and pulled from Hope's spot. "Five to one, my Nissan gets towed before we get back." Brad watched the rusty car get smaller as he steered to the road.

"I told my doorman it would be there. It'll be fine. Or, I'll pay to have it sprung."

"Mighty kind of you."

"This is a twelve hour drive, right?"

"Usually. Sometimes you can push it and in this thing we'll probably make better time than in my hunk of shit, but it'll be at least eleven."

She slid in a Creed CD and adjusted her mirror. "Are we stopping for the night?"

Shit. He'd wanted to leave by eight, make it there by eight. Late dinner, early bed on opposite ends of the hall, no harm done. But Hope had to go into the store and didn't make it back until eleven. He'd met her here at noon and it was now twelve-fifteen. Midnight was pretty late to pull into a dairy farm.

"We'll see," he said and punched the gas to seventy-five.

Damn her! Goddamn her! He'd been doing it--he was fighting her off and his dick had actually been on the way to deflating. Then she stands there with a tear in her eye and a cardigan tied around her shoulders and yells out into the night that she loves him.

And it was more than he ever would've pegged her to say.

He unlocked the door to the dank room that was obviously not used for more than an occasional fuck and by the looks of it hadn't been used for even that in a while. He was peeling off his sweater and tee shirt in two seconds flat. Hope stood by the door, cowering, hovering as if her virginity was going to be ripped out of her within the next five minutes. It was a good look for her.

Christ, she needed breaking. She needed to be ridden and tamed. She needed to see that he was what was missing. Not some damned restaurant or validation that she was the biggest, baddest corporate manager of all. "Take your clothes off."

"We should talk."

Brad spun around and took in the sight of her with her expensive suitcase and teardrop pearls in her ears. "I said take your clothes off. Now."

"So hearing that I love you is enough? You believe me?"

He unzipped his jeans, but left them on as he approached her like a lynx. "I'm not sure I believe anything you say, Hope. But I know that for a girl like you, the hardest thing to do is let loose. You said it, and that couldn't have been easy. Now strip. I want to fuck you."

Her eyes were so round, so scared and trusting all at the same time. Christ, she made him crazed. Made him the madman that he'd always feared he so easily could be. Slowly she untied the cardigan, pulled her short-sleeved navy sweater off and reached behind her to unclasp her bra. Her beautiful tits tumbled out. She kept going. Unzipped her jeans and stepped out of them, then wiggled off her panties and peeled her socks. She was nude, just the twinkling innocence of the teardrop earrings remained.

Brad reached out and simply, ever so slightly, touched each nipple. Her eyes closed, her head fell back as he barely made contact with the very tips. "Hmmm," she murmured.

She looked chiseled and unreal. He fucking adored her. He wanted to take her softly, gently, reverently; but he needed to take her hard, fast, fierce. He pinched each nipple and her eyes flew open.

"Hurt?"

She said nothing, just swallowed.

"Sometimes it's fun to hurt, Hope." He pinched them again, flicked the tips with a scratching swipe, then lowered and chewed.

"Ahh!" she cried out, but he could tell by the way that she shifted, offering, she loved it more than feared it.

Brad pulled away, leaving her panting, her heart pounding under his palm. He laced his fingers through her hair and tipped her head back with such a force, she gasped. "Sometimes it's not so much fun."

She looked so young and vulnerable. The barracuda in the workplace, the sacrificial lamb in the bedroom. He still held her silken hair, still twisted so he was sure she knew and then lowered to lick her jaw, her neck, her collarbone.

He found his way back to her nipples, sucked, bit and twisted her hair in his hands all at the same time. "You're a bad girl, Hope. A bad, bad girl."

He spun her around and plastered her hands against the door painted an obnoxious, chipped orange. "Spread your legs."

She did and when he thrust his finger into her pussy he realized that though she was wet, her fear had obviously kept her from being wetter. That was the way he wanted her. Tight, a little dry, a little resistant. The only way to sway her was to make her uncomfortable.

She pushed her cheek to the dirty door panel as his fingers worked inside. "Where's your pussy juice, Hope? Do I have to make my own?"

He had four fingers in her now. They didn't move gently, they probed and dug. "Do I?" he asked again, thrusting his fingers further. He twisted them back and forth before she answered.

"Yes, please, make your own."

"Does this hurt, Hope? Does it make you uncomfortable?"

A tiny voice answered. "I don't know."

He let out a cynical laugh. "You don't fucking know."

He pulled his fingers out and hungrily licked them off, making sure his sounds conveyed to her what was happening. "I want it juicy. It's not nearly juicy enough."

Brad knelt, pushed her legs to their furthest points and buried his nose between the plump cheeks of her ass, knowing it humiliated and turned her on at the same time. "Nice," he murmured and let his tongue play around the puckered rosy rear hole. "Lick your fingers," he commanded between licks. "Lick them."

Hope raised her hand and sucked her fingers.

"Leave them sloppy and wet. Don't suck them off, leave them sloppy."

He still feasted at her most private door, working his tongue into the opening of the tiny hole. She shuddered. He'd played with assholes before--even fucked a few--but he'd never tasted one and he couldn't believe how crazed the taste of Hope's made him. His dick was granite and ready to plunder.

"Finger yourself, Hope. Rub your clit with your wet fingers and then pull some of your juice to make it really slick."

She did, moaning all the while at the combination of sensations.

"Now put your hands back on the door. Stay perfectly still." His tongue invaded her ass. She swayed and moaned. He gave her ass cheek a sharp spank. "I said, stay perfectly still. Not a sound, not a movement. Do you understand?"

She nodded and whimpered and he spanked her again. His handprint stained her cheek. Brad stood up, peeled down his jeans and took in the sight of her, legs spread, ass red, hands glued to the door, eyes wide with longing and fear. She'd painted her toenails a deep crimson. Just the image of her brushing on the slick color with her leg raised, pussy exposed, made him wild.

It'd surprised him how much she'd liked having her asshole licked. It surprised him how much he liked licking it. He smoothed his palm over her wounded cheeks and stroked them lovingly. "I'm sorry for spanking you, but you need to listen. I want you quiet and still, okay? No matter what you feel, I want you quiet and still."

No response came, no nod. Brad grinned and gently massaged the globes of her ass. "Good girl."

Just to test the waters, he allowed his finger to trail to her pussy. Man, she was wet now. Too wet. He wanted her dry, didn't want her to have the pleasure of comfort. "Man alive, Hope. You're a mystery. You're too fucking wet now! Too wet to fuck and make it rough." He smacked her bottom. She tried desperately not to flinch.

"How am I gonna do that? How am I gonna fuck you and have you really feel what a cock can do if you're so juicy? You're a little slut, Hope. You like it too much and that's not good for me. I'll just have to do it to you a different way."

Her eyes were the size of saucers now, huge questioning, but she still stood frozen against the door. "Ever been fucked in the ass?"

She stayed still.

"You can answer me. Ever been fucked in the ass?"

"No."

"Well, there's a first time for everything, isn't there? Though I'm more of a pussy man, I think your asshole will be a nice little treat for me tonight. Stay there."

Brad walked to the bedside table and slid open a drawer. Sure enough he found a box of neon glow rubbers, ribbed for extra pleasure. He ripped it open, hoped it would fit and moved back to Hope.

"The one time I wear a rubber is to fuck an ass. That way I can fuck your pussy after I take it off. Open your mouth."

Hope did as she was instructed.

"Put this on me," he said and laid the obnoxious chartreuse rubber over his thick head.

Hope took to his cock as she gave putting a condom on with her mouth the old college try. Her mouth was like paradise--hot, wet, tight, needy. She completed the task and actually tried to blow him before he pulled out. He looked down at the ridiculous spiked ring running around the base of his cock.

"Okay, baby. That's enough. Now listen, I'll let you cry out--once. You'll need to. But then I want you quiet while I fuck you. No moving. No pumping. Just stay bent over and get fucked."

Brad positioned her, gave each nipple a little tug and then moved behind her. He hadn't done this in a year. The girl had been a law tutor who carried lubricant jelly wherever she went. She'd slathered him up good and he'd slipped right in. The girl came hard and fast. He followed.

But he didn't have any lubricant now. Hadn't expected to take Hope in the ass while they drove to Wisconsin. Did she want it? He hadn't even asked. He'd just played the Barbarian.

A flicker of tenderness ignited his belly. He leaned over and rubbed circles into Hope's abdomen. "Do you want to try this? I'll stop if you don't."

She said nothing. Damn she was a good student. "You can answer."

"I'm curious, but scared."

"It's nice. I think you'll like it. They tell me that it's a different feeling orgasm."

Hope wiggled her ass. "I want to try it because I want you to make me yours. You told me you wished you'd popped my cherry--" She wiggled again, offering. "Pop this one."

Holy shit. Brad assumed his position, licked his palms, moistened the rubber and pushed against the opening. Poor girl, he was huge with wanting. He started to enter, she flinched, adjusted and gripped the door.

What the hell was the matter with him? He hadn't even used his finger, only his tongue. She wasn't ready for ten by three inches of cock shoved up her ass. But it was too late now. He kept going. She was tight as shit. One inch. She gasped. Two inches. She whimpered. Three. She sighed. Four. She squirmed to take more. Five, she groaned.

And then with a mighty thrust, six, seven and eight entered her. She cried out a blood-curdling cry, but Brad felt like he'd conquered a brave new world. He'd fucked Hope's virgin ass.

"Oh, baby girl." He fucked--in, out, in.

She steadied herself against the door. He'd told her not to talk and she was complying. Brad leaned up, lay across her back and found the nubs of her nipples. They were beaded from either passion or pain. He pinched and thought he heard a moan.

"Do you like my big, uncut cock shoved up your ass?"

She said nothing, but he really had to know.

"You're taking it so good. No matter what you feel, you're taking it damn good. Talk now, tell me if you like it or hate it."

"It hurts," Hope groaned.

He thrust deep and she choked a sob. "Always? It doesn't feel good at all?" He rolled a nipple, pinched and wished he could use his teeth. And then he felt it--the warm little tremor of her pleasure.

"What, Hope? Tell me what."

"Ah." She said softly, lifted her back in what he recognized was an attempt to pull him in.

"What, baby? What?"

She stiffened and convulsed around his cock. "Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah yesssss!"

She liked it. She liked having her ass pounded.

"Is it good?" He used a slow smooth stroke.

"Oh my God! I coming! I can't tell you what it feels like!"

That was all it took. He exploded into the rubber, buckets and buckets, then fell in a crumpled heap over Hope's back.