Intense (Beneath Blaze #3)

by Luna Mason

“Don’t forget to take your butt plug out before bed.”

“You jot that one down, and I will punch you so hard in the throat that you won’t be able to do a speech when you win tomorrow.” I smile sweetly as I deliver my threat. He chuckles. This time not with me, but at me. His eyes darken as he leans in. “If you’re going to hit me, you’re going to want to make sure you knock me the fuck out so I can’t come after you for punishment,”

A science experiment in human limits and kink exploration. How much pain can a person endure and still get off? How far will the body go for freedom? It’s fascinating.

We free them. After probably fucking with their heads. But I like to think of it as freeing them from evil. They just have to earn it.

It’s about who can survive in their own head.

So long as I don’t sleep too deep. Don’t get high. I made that mistake before. Don’t let myself think for too long… I’m fine. Distraction is key.

Her anger fuels me. Or maybe… It’s the sparkle in her eyes when she tells me to fuck off. I don’t know. It’s fun. For me, anyway.

“Go on. Get on your knees and crawl to get your phone, you fucking dog,” I hiss.

“Like I’d let that asshole have you fired. If anyone gets to be responsible for it, it’s me.

Sometimes I wonder why I’m still into men. I guess it must be their dicks. Because I’ve yet to see what else they’ve got going for them.

He touched her. Looked at her like she was something he could pick off a shelf and play with. And even though I have no goddamn right, I’m the only one who gets to fuck with her, push her buttons.

Because men like him never learn until another man teaches them. And no one teaches harder lessons than me.

SAVED HER FROM A SEX PEST. SHE WAS FIRE IN A DRESS. LOOKED ME IN THE EYE LIKE SHE’D SET ME ALIGHT TOO. WOULD LET HER. Actually, she never needed saving. She had him on the floor like a dog. Very naughty.

You’d think by now, she would be used to this. Because, much like many parts of our industry, I rigged these awards. In fact, this entire bullshit award ceremony was created and funded by me to purposely piss her off three years ago. I was bored. I wanted to assess how she’d react.

But God, she looks beautiful when she’s seething. What the fuck is wrong with me? What is this temptress doing to the cold, numb Dr. Quinn?

“Come near me again, and I swear I’ll cut your heart out and mail it to your fiancée.”

“I wouldn’t fuck you if you were the last man on earth. I’d wait for the aliens to arrive and fuck one of them instead.”

“You’re brave, you know that?” His voice is a threat and a promise. “Why?” “Because next time you lock yourself in a room with me and talk like that—” He steps closer, breath hot against my ear. “I’ll bend you over my knee and cut that attitude out of you. I’ll make you bleed for it.”

“You. Have. No. Idea. Who. I. Am. Love. Do not push me any further. I’ll allow this outburst, once. But this is your one and only pass.”

“No. A drinking game. We’re in Vegas, after all, Stephanie.” I blink. “What kind of drinking?” He closes his eyes, visibly restraining himself. “Water. Let’s drown ourselves in hydration,”

“Ladies first. And don’t ditch me for any alien dick tonight.” I spin, walking backwards to face him as I grin. “I’m not missing out on monster dick if the opportunity arises.”

“I could do this all night.” “Is that an offer?” “Only if you’re ready to lose.”

But I’ve already won. She won’t admit it. But I can feel it. Not the tequila. Her. I could taste her victory and her downfall in the same breath. And I’m starving for both.

She rolls her eyes, and I tap my rings against the table. She really needs to stop doing that to me, because the more I drink, the more likely I am to jump across the table and grab her throat.

The more he drinks, the more he’s losing his calm and collected exterior. He’s becoming… a yapper.

“You look cute when you’re drunk, Stephanie.” “So do you. Aw. Look at us being all sweet.”

Although, I shouldn’t bring up her parents. I know they’re in jail for a homicide. Probably an awkward conversation topic. And I don’t know how I’d deal with a crying Stephanie.

“You are such a smug, self-absorbed, egotistical⁠—" “Careful,” I cut in, lifting my glass. “You’re starting to sound like my therapist.”

There is no way in hell I could let a shrink dive into my subconscious. My brothers are right, I would end up in a padded cell and have to kill everyone in there to escape. Although, that does actually sound quite entertaining.

Is she… making me weak? Or is it all the alcohol?

She rests her head against my chest, and I don’t flinch. I don’t do comfort. I don’t do cuddles. I don’t let people touch me. Yet, here she is, with her hands all over me and her face snuggled against me.

I’m drunk. But I’m not sure if it’s from the tequila or her.

“Why don’t you look like shit?” I rasp. He laughs, but it turns into a cough. “I don’t know. Because I feel like it.”

“You’d know, drunk or not, if I’d fucked you. You’d be covered in cuts and bruises. You wouldn’t be able to walk. And you sure as hell wouldn’t be questioning it. Because you’d feel it. I’d still be dripping down your thighs. So no, we did not have sex.”

“Finn! What have we done?!” “Stephanie, calm down. It’s fine.” “Fine?! Fine?! They’re legally binding marriages here, you psycho!”

I yank at the ring, but the second I do, a growl erupts from him. “Dr. Stephanie Quinn.” His voice is sharp and commanding. He stands, stepping toward me like he’s stalking prey. I forget how to breathe. Fuck, he’s sexy. “That ring stays on your finger.”

“Who are you, and what have you done with Finn?” “I’m a married man now, Stephanie. And your husband needs a nap.”

“Stop being a dick, Finn.” “Stop being a brat, Stephanie.”

“Where are you going, wifey?” he calls out. “Back to my room. Then to figure out how to divorce your ass.” He sighs dramatically. “Well, that leads to storage, not the door for your dramatic exit. But good luck. I’m not signing shit.

I won this fair and square. I won you. If you could also track down the chapel we went to and get them to send me the footage, I’d love to savor the moment that I claimed you.”

“I’m going to kill you.” He beams. “Not before our honeymoon, love.”

Because when she kissed me—drunk or not⁠— My entire world fucking stopped.

Her touch burns through my skin. And she’s the first woman that I haven’t wanted to sever from me. No. With her, I want to sew her into my fucking skin and never let her go.

If one drunken kiss has my mind spinning. What would her complete submission do to me? Kill me? Maybe.

Perhaps she should have smothered me with that pillow, because that’s the only way I can see her getting out of this.

I need to change her contact name. She isn’t Dr. Miller any longer. Dr. Quinn. Or Temptress would work. Because that’s what she is to me. A temptation.

I have enough money to last ten lifetimes. But a marriage I can use to rile up my wife for the rest of my life? Priceless.

Temptress I’m already engaged to someone else. My heart stops for a moment. If she is, then it’s quite simple; he will need to go. Me You better end it, fast. I won’t be sharing you. You’re mine now.

Mrs. Quinn, I know you dared to come to work today without your rings, and I thought to myself, you probably deserve to have something more of a statement to show off our marriage. So, your first gift from your husband. Wear them, or else.

What the fuck is this? Finn Quinn doesn’t throw parties. He doesn’t even like people. He makes that abundantly clear.