by Olivia Chase
She doesn’t move at first. So I swat her on the thigh. That makes her jump. She bends over, palms flat on the surface.
My dick is so hard it’s painful.
“Someone needs to learn her place,” I say, grabbing her ponytail and jerking her head back. Her breath whooshes out in an exhale, and those gorgeous red lips part. My whole body is pulsing as hard as my cock. God, I’ve craved touching her for so long now. It’s been misery, keeping my hands off her night after night when all I’ve wanted to do is throw her down and fuck her. Hard. I swat her ass hard twice, enough to make her give a low cry out. Then I whip her around to face me, still holding her hair. “You going to listen to me now?”
“Why haven’t you touched me?” she asks, an unusual vulnerability in her eyes, and I find myself short of breath suddenly.
That’s what this is about.
Not just about being a brat. Not just about pushing boundaries. She’s been craving my touch, and I withheld it from her. There’s something much more intimate and emotional about what she’s admitted to me than I expected to hear. It hits me square in the chest.
I release her hair and grab her hips. Step closer. My cock is so painfully hard, pressed against her curved belly. Her mouth is sin, temptation, and I want to kiss her. It’s so fucking difficult fighting that urge. “You did all of this on purpose,” I said. “To get me to touch you.”
She doesn’t look at me. Her gaze drops to her feet.
I tilt her chin and force her eyes on mine. “Tell me, Marissa.”
With a deep inhale, she admits, “Yes.”
Victory hits me hard, a surge that flows through my body. My mouth curls in a sinister grin. “I see.” She’s a dirty girl, and she needs to be punished. To understand what happens when she disobeys me. “Take your shorts off and lay down on the desk.”
She blinks, eyes wide in shock.
I growl. “Right now, Marissa.”
Something in my bossy tone must startle her, because she scrambles to follow my orders, sliding the shorts down and then stretching out on the desk surface. Her panties are pale pink…except she isn’t supposed to be wearing any panties today. I told her not do.
“What is this?” I say, fingering the fabric just over the slit of her pussy.
“They’re my underwear,” she breathes.
I grip the fabric and rip it at the seam until it tears in half. “I seem to remember telling you no panties today.”
I’m like a man possessed. I hardly recognize myself. Who is this maniac I’ve become? The man who can’t seem to stop thinking of this woman? Who is drunk on her? I shove those thoughts aside, not wanting to focus on that now.
I take her panties in my hand and smell the crotch. They’re soaked. She watches me, panting, her thighs dropping open with her heels planted on the desk. She’s so fucking aroused that it takes all my strength not to just plunge inside her. “What turned you on?” I demand.
Her lips thin, and she looks away from me.
I grip the back of her head and force her to look into my eyes. “What. Turned. You. On?”
“You did.” The words are spat out, almost as if she resents telling me the truth.
I cram the panties into my jeans pocket. “These are mine now.” Then I put my hands on her knees and open her wet cunt wide open for me. Fuck. I can see her glistening juices coating her labia. Oh God, I want to just dive in and feast on her for the rest of the night. For longer than that. As long as she’ll let me.
I grab her delicate wrists and pin them on the desk above her head, stroking the thin flesh with my thumb. Then I reach down and finger that tight, soaking cunt until my hand is coated in her juices. Fuck, she’s impossibly tight. Tight and wet. She’s writhing against me, her nipples hard through her thin shirt, her pussy swollen.
“Oh God, please, Hudson,” she moans. Hearing those words makes me want to explode all over her.
Fuck. I’m so hard that I could hammer my dick through a wall right now. It’s been torture, seeing her every day, having her so close and not touching her. Not having her touch me. I tried so hard to be good. And I’m fucking tired of it.
“Please, what?” I purr to her, slicking my finger over her clit. “Be clearer.”
She groans and undulates under my hand. “Anything you want. Please. Just touch me. And let me touch you. I need it so badly.” She’s so raw, so open with me right now. I’ve never seen anything like it. No pretense. No games. Just Marissa, embracing her need. I’m so turned on I can barely breathe. I’ve never felt like this before.
I find myself unzipping my pants and stepping around the desk. Her mouth is inches from my crotch. Oh Jesus, I want to fuck her mouth so much that my cock literally hurts at the thought.
Her gaze goes right to my dick, which gives a painful pulse in response.
When she licks her lips, I’m done for.
“Open your fucking mouth,” I say, one hand still gripping her hair, the other fingering her cunt.
She looks like she’s going to, but she pauses, eyes me with a smirk, and keeps her lips closed.
I’m so turned on that I can’t even breathe. I remove my fingers from her pussy, which makes her give a resentful whine. “You’re being a bad girl. You’re not allowed to come yet, then.” Instead, I take her jaw and open her mouth. “You’re going to suck my cock now, aren’t you?”
Her lips are plump and wet for me, and I need to fuck her mouth so badly. She nods, opening wider.
I press the head of my dick to her lips. Her mouth is like silk. When I push forward, she opens for me, and I slide into the wet heat, and oh my fucking sweet God, it’s like heaven. I’m so hard, so impossibly hard. I release her jaw and move back down to fingering her, two fingers thrusting in that drenched cunt. She’s writhing, sucking me, and the scent of her pussy fills my office. I never want to smell anything else.
I use my thumb to stroke her clit as I fuck her harder. Her throat opens, taking me in, though she gags for a moment, tears streaming out of the corners of her eyes. For some reason, that turns me on even more. My entire body is surging with lust, with a painful need that only she can quench.
Feeling those sexy lips wrapped around me as I slide in and out…I’m getting so close to coming. My balls are tight, by body tense. My desk was made for this beautiful woman to be here, open to me, exposed, shamelessly taking what I give her.
She tenses, and I can tell from the way she moves that she’s close to coming. I fuck her mouth harder, because I’m close, too. “Not yet,” I warn with a growl.
Her desperate eyes turn up to mine, and that does it for me. I can feel the spurt of come filling my cock and pushing out, and my whole body is on fire, and I’m exploding in her mouth.
“Now,” I manage to get out.
Marissa shudders, gasps around my cock, and then her cunt tightens so hard around my fingers as she comes that I can barely manage to move them inside her. Her cries of pleasure are muffled by my cock filling her mouth. We’re both coming at the same time, breaking apart, the intensity of the moment ripping me into shreds. Fuck. Fuck. She swallows every drop like a good girl, savoring it, gulping with desperation to taste me. It’s literally the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life.
When we’re both done, I withdraw my fingers from her pussy and help to straighten her skirt. Her movements are languid now, relaxed. She has a soft smile on her beautiful face as she sits up.
We both look at each other and smile for a moment. Something crackles between us. Not just lust. Not just raw passion. No, there’s another thing, lurking deep, unnamed. Intense. I’m uncomfortable with it—not ready to face it right now. So I straighten my clothes, tucking myself back in, and avoid her gaze.
“I…understand what my tasks are,” she finally says, a lilt of humor in her voice. “I’ll make sure to do exactly what you ask of me next time.”
Her words draw my gaze to her. She has a glow about her that makes me want to keep touching her and never let go.
Fuck. I’m in way over my head here. So I tell her, “Okay, as long as we understand each other.”
“Perfectly,” she murmurs with those lush lips that are red and full from sucking me off. Then she hops off the desk and heads out of the office.
And I just stand there, raking a hand through my hair, trying to gather myself. I’ve never had these kind of impulses before. What has come over me? I have no fucking idea. But I need to do these things to Marissa. To show her that she is mine, to possess her completely.
But with these feelings comes a sense of shame and guilt. I don’t quite understand what’s happening here. And what if I’m being a corrupting influence on her? My feelings are strong, but I can’t let myself get emotionally involved with her. Am I just using her then? Because she isn’t really mine, and I can’t have her.
Hell, even if I wanted to be serious—which I can’t possibly consider—she’s leaving for the West Coast in short order.
This is a mess.
My brothers can’t know that we’re doing…whatever the hell this is. Not after what happened with Jamison and Zack getting serious with women and bailing on our family. This has to be a secret from them. From everyone.
Admittedly, that makes it a bit more exciting for me. Having a dirty secret that only she and I know about. But it also creates confusion.
I can tell that she’s feeling the same. She’s not good at hiding her emotions. They’re clear all over her face. Something is happening between me and Marissa, something that is pulling me in over my head.
I should be more afraid. I should be, but I’m not.
“Thank God for Mondays,” Axel declares, resting his feet on the coffee table and sipping his beer.
I give him a smile and tip my beer toward him. “Yeah, relax. We have the day off.” We decided the other day that Mondays are our break days. We can’t work 24/7 without fear of burning out. Not to mention we still have to attend to the needs of our community. They depend on us to keep them safe. If we’re not here to provide that service, this neighborhood will get even worse than it already is.
The cops won’t even venture around our part of town. We keep things safe. And that money has kept us afloat until now.
Admittedly, I haven’t been that close to Axel in the past. He’s our half brother, the product of my dad knocking up a woman just months after our mom left him, and he moved in our family home a little while ago to help out with our family protection business. I resented Axel at first, admittedly. He wasn’t a “real” Beckett—not one of us. Sure, he has Butch’s artistic talent, and he’s really similar to us looks-wise, but he wasn’t one of us.
But in the last few months, as Hale and I have undertaken this plan, Axel’s been an invaluable help. Never complaining about the workload. Putting in long hours. Always willing to continue tattooing during his off time to ensure our family has enough money to get by. He’s been loyal to a fault.
I didn’t like him at first, sure. But the last few months, Axel has slowly won me over. Hell, he’s been more dedicated to our family than our older brothers were.
Even as I think that, a searing flush works its way over me. Marissa’s become a strong, compelling temptation to me…something that could possibly rip us all apart too if it got more serious. Am I that much better than my older brothers? I push aside my doubts.
I am better than them.
More loyal.
More successful.
I’m still here, doing what my family needs me to. I didn’t bail on us.
“I can’t fucking believe how well things are going at Fugitives,” Hale finally says with a broad smile on his face. He looks at me. “I mean, I know you’re smart and you have your shit together, Hudson. But for our bar to be this flush with cash this quickly? It’s a fucking dream.”
I nod. Truth is, I still can’t believe it either. I thought it would take longer for us to become more solvent. The other day, I paid our first week’s debt to Conor, who was all politeness and smiles. He was getting what he wanted, so of course he was friendly. Admittedly, I wish I never had to deal with him. But I couldn’t have gotten the bar off the ground without his help.
Soon, I’ll have that fucker paid off, and all will be well.
“So…” Axel shifts in his seat, crossing one ankle over the other on the coffee table. “What’s the deal with Marissa?”
The question is aimed at no one in particular. And fuck if I know how to answer. Because truth is, there’s so much I don’t know about her yet…but I want to. Why is she here? What’s driving her to move on? Why west? Is she running from someone…or to someone?
The last thought makes my blood burn with jealousy. I have to believe she isn’t that kind of person who’d be dating someone else but let me touch her at the same time. The honesty and openness that I see on her face confirms it for me.
“I dunno.” Hale shrugs. “She’s pretty quiet about her personal life. At least she’s a hard worker.” He looks at me and nods. “Good call on hiring her. She’s been a real asset to our bar.”
I give a faint smile. Fucking Marissa is haunting me. Even on my day off, I can’t get her out of my mind. As my brothers shift the conversation to talking about other things going on in the neighborhood, I pull out my phone and find myself texting her. So what does a transient on her way west do on her days off?
A few minutes later, I get a reply. It’s very exciting. I go to the store and buy groceries. Included is a picture of her grocery cart, filled with veggies and fruit pasta. Another clue about her—she eats healthy. Then she sends a selfie of her with her hair in a ponytail, no makeup on. She’s still so ridiculously gorgeous that it hurts to look at her. Need anything while I’m here? she adds.
I know she’s teasing. But there’s something intimate about the question that makes me want to be near her right now. What would it be like, walking through a grocery store with her, doing mundane things that couples do? I get a funny feeling in my chest that won’t go away.
I’m good, I type back. I want to know more. I want to ask a hundred questions. I also want to put my phone away and pretend this woman doesn’t impact me at all. Because the truth is, I’m starting to feel something for her, as crazy as it seems.
What is happening to me?
I find myself saving her image in my photo folder. It’s sentimental. It’s ridiculous. But I can’t deny that I need to have her picture to look at whenever I want.
Marissa
A few days pass after the office desk incident. Admittedly, it’s all I can think about at work. Something has shifted between us since that happened, something that has edged toward dangerous. Toward us passing a line we can never undo.
I’m not making overt mistakes any longer to get his attention, not outright telling him no. But every day, Hudson has found minute details to pick at me over…and then brings me into his office for discipline.
I left a dirty glass out too long before washing it. I didn’t replace the toilet paper roll in the women’s bathroom. I should have smiled bigger at a new customer.
Admittedly, I have no complaints about what he’s doing when he tugs me away from the bar. Because every time he pulls me into that room, my whole body is taut with anticipation. With the ache for him to punish me. I am eager. Hungry. Desperate.
And tonight is no exception. Right now, I’m standing in front of his desk as his backside rests against the top. Hudson has his arms crossed as he stares at me, eyeing me up and down.
“Didn’t I tell you to work on reducing your time for beer refills?” he asks smoothly. “You’re costing me business.”
We both know this is a game. That he isn’t really upset at my work. I’ve been managing the bar without fuss, without any complaints. But I’ll never open my damn mouth about it, because I’m in his office, and I know where this is going to lead. Somewhere dirty. Somewhere hot and intense.
Even though I want more from him.
He’s fingered me. I’ve sucked him. He’s pulled my h
air and spanked me. But not once has he kissed me. Nor has it gone anywhere close to us approaching sex. Which I crave so badly that I could cry.
I stand there before him, arms by my sides, just watching and waiting to see what’s going to happen.
“Take off your panties,” he growls.
I oblige, sliding out of them and dropping the satiny fabric into his open palm.
“Lie down on the ground.”
This is new. My heart skips a beat or two as I lower myself, stretching out on the tight-weave carpet. I stare up at him, looming over me.
Hudson shoves my skirt to my waist, grabs my bare hips and then sinks down on top of me.
And then his mouth is on mine, and I’m clenching his hair and his hands are digging into my sides. His tongue expertly swirls in my mouth, makes my pussy so wet that I can feel it running down my ass and onto the carpet.
It’s so fucking hot. I can smell and taste my arousal.
He drops down to stretch out fully and grind on top of me, and I throw my legs around his waist. I need him inside me so badly that I could scream for want of it.
I melt.
I dissolve.
I burn alive.
Holy…shit. The man can kiss. My nipples are beaded so hard that they hurt. I’m writhing, digging my fingernails into his shoulders, and he’s pushing the firm length of his cock against my apex.
And then he’s suddenly off me, standing up, looking down. Disheveled, but still somehow manages to seem put together. He walks out the office door without a backward glance.
I sit up, tears burning in my eyes. I can’t keep doing this. The man is driving me nuts. And I still have no idea what the hell is going on. Is this really just a game for him? It seems like more than that, but maybe I’m just imagining things. After all, if a guy wanted me, could he really just jump off me and walk away? Like nothing happened?
I straighten my hair and go back to the bar. Fuck it. I have a job to do. At least for tonight. Maybe I should just quit working here and get a job somewhere else. Can I really keep this up? Having a boss who is basically stringing me along? It’s clear he’s only interested in fooling around, nothing more. And even that is inconsistent and frustrating.
