by Thea Frost
I go to turn around, but his voice is immediate, sharp, imperative. "Don't. Turn around."
I gulp and turn back to the wall. I hear a snick, then the slide of the magazine being ejected. The metallic click of his setting the gun down. I'm unarmed now. More vulnerable. Then he's back behind me. His hands on my body. Touching. Pressing. Moving down my sides, patting my hips.
"Mr. Deckard," I say. "I can assure you -"
"Shhh," he whispers, lips close to my ear as before. I feel my face burn. His hands grip my hips as he rubs his crotch against my ass. "This skirt," he whispers. "It should be illegal for you to wear it."
My mind blanks. This isn't just business. He means to fuck me. Would this be sex, or just dominance? God, I want him. As I feel his huge cock rub against my rear, I close my eyes and stifle a moan. I want to let go. I want to be his. To feel him again, sliding into me, rigid, throbbingly hard. Hand in my hair, pulling my head back till tears prick my eyes.
But I can't. Everything depends on my self-control. Before was just pleasure. Now my career is on the line.
"No." I say the word quietly but with force. "We can't."
His voice is harsh. "Keep your hands on the wall. And spread your fucking legs."
It would be so easy to obey him. So good.
I shake my head. "No. I'm here to do business with you. Not to fuck." I push away from the wall, step back from him. Smooth down my skirt. I can't allow myself to hesitate. To grow weak. I step back, pick up my briefcase. "Goodbye, Mr. Deckard."
I turn and walk to the door. Each step causes my heart to sink further. How am I going to explain this to Blake? How can I admit to him that I fucked my target earlier tonight? One night out of prison. That's all it took for me to ruin everything. My case. My career. My life.
I open the door. I'm about to step out and into oblivion, when he speaks. "Bryce. Wait."
There's something in his voice. Something new. Gone is that steely coldness. There's desire in it, yes, but also something more. Yearning? Pain? I look over my shoulder at him. He smiles, and it's a genuine smile. Mercurial. That's the word for him. "Wait, come back. Let's talk shop."
I hesitate. Hand still on the doorknob. "Shop. You promise?"
He turns and moves to the counter, where he takes a bottle of whiskey and pours a glass, then two. "I promise."
Still I hesitate. Not because I trust him - I don't. But because I don't trust myself. But I can't go. I can't throw this opportunity away. So I step back inside and close the door.
"That sample you gave me was impressively pure. Who's your contact?"
I relax. Step up to the bar, and take my whiskey. "You know I'm not going to tell you that."
He sips. Those lips. That hand. Those fingers. His eyes, studying me. I feel naked before him. Vulnerable. Like I felt earlier. How does he get under my skin so easily?
"What kind of volume can you move?"
I allow my memorized information to flow. I start talking to him about shipments, time frames, distribution networks. He listens and asks astute questions. I sip the whiskey. I'm halfway through explaining my guarantees when he interrupts.
"I really want to kiss you again."
Like that, I'm back at square one, confused by desire and professional need. "No."
He's leaning back, one elbow on the bar, glass in hand. Eying me like a giant cat. A jaguar. Voice smooth. Casual. "Why not?"
"Why not?" I run my hands through my hair in distraction. "Because we're going to be business partners. We can't fuck."
"Again, why not? You're so damn hot. I've been thinking about you ever since earlier tonight."
"No, you haven't." I say this with a small laugh.
He sets the glass down. "I have." His voice becomes husky. "I've been thinking about what your lips would look like around my cock. Your eyes looking up at me as I slide in and out of your mouth."
I step back. I need to assert control. But I can feel it slipping through my hands like sand. "Do you fuck all your business partners?"
He laughs. "None of them are as hot as you are. So perfectly fuckable."
I'm not used to this kind of language. To men being so direct. So unashamed. I feel myself blushing. I back up again as he steps closer. "We shouldn't."
Jack sets down his drink. I'm mesmerized by his body. He's got the grace of a professional dancer. Completely at ease in his own skin. He walks toward a leather armchair and sits down on it. I'm left standing there, awkward, unsure of myself. I go to sit on the couch, but he shakes his head ever so slightly. No. And like that I stop. Freeze in place.
"Put down your drink," he commands. I do so. His voice is so powerful. So commanding. His eyes are devouring me. I love that I turn him on. That he wants me. I can see the bulge in his pants. I can tell he's rock-hard.
"I'm going to fuck you," he says, voice still quiet. "But this time I'm going to fuck you slow. I'm going to fuck you slow and hard until you beg for release. Until you can't take it any more."
"Jack," I whisper. The last of my resolve is melting away.
"Get on your knees."
If any other man were to say that to me, I'd laugh. But his voice. His eyes. I lower myself to his carpet. I can't tear my eyes off him. What is he going to do to me?
"Now. Slowly. Crawl to me."
I've never done anything like this. I put my hands on the carpet. My pussy is so wet. I begin to crawl, one hand before the other, across the room toward him. I'm terrified. Aroused beyond measure. I've lost all control. He's overwhelmed me with the sheer force of his personality.
Jack watches me approach. His eyes are stormy, his mouth a thin line. I can't tell if I please him. I can't tell if he likes what he sees.
I reach him. Unsure what to do, I hesitate, and he reaches down to cup my chin.
"Good girl," he whispers, and his words send a shiver through me. "Do you want me to fuck you?"
"Yes," I breathe.
"Yes what?"
I feel so inexperienced. So young. So self-conscious. But I can't stop. I look down and whisper, "I want you to fuck me."
His grip tightens as he lifts my chin. "Look at me."
I do. His beauty is cruel. His features are so perfect. He could fuck any woman he wants. But he's here with me. Now. He brushes his thumb over my lips. "Open."
I do. He slides his thumb into my mouth, and I suck on it. I can see the approval in his eyes. My whole body is tingling. He works his thumb deeper. "That's good. Just like that."
I work my tongue around his thumb. Imagine it's his cock. Suck and press my lips around it. And all the time I stare into his eyes.
"Good. Now come here."
I rise and sit in his lap. He brushes his lips against mine, and I move my hands over his chest, down his stomach to his rock-hard cock.
"No," he says, removing my hand. "You don't get to control this. I do."
I'm trembling. He traces the curve of my cheek, then runs his fingers down my neck. Unbuttons my shirt slowly. Reveals my cleavage, and I see his eyes narrow with hunger. He runs the backs of his fingers over the swell of my breasts, then squeezes one gently.
"Your body is mine," he whispers, and his voice is raw with desire. "I'm going to explore you. Every inch. Kiss and lick you. Own you."
I close my eyes as his hand slips beneath my bra to cup my breast fully, my nipple hard against his palm. He moves my bra down completely, exposing my tits, and lowers his head to them. I want to put my hand in his hair, cup his head, but I don't. I'm not in control. He is.
His tongue is delicious. Hot and wet and circling and teasing my nipple, working it from side to side. My pussy grows wetter, and I start worrying about soaking through to his pants. Ridiculous.
Jack takes my nipple between his teeth and nips it, the sensation a sharp blend of pain and perfection. I gasp. I see him smile, then he lifts my breast, squeezes it, and sucks my nipple deep into his mouth. Works it with the flat of his tongue. Oh god. It feel so good. I want to writhe in his lap. Grind
against his thigh. I hold back.
"Stand up," he says, slipping my bra back over my breasts. I do so. "Take off your shirt." I undo the last few buttons, then pull it off. Jack leans back, one arm over the back of his chair, chin lowered, eyes half-lidded. Admiring me. Drinking me in. "Now that skirt."
I take a deep breath and push my skirt down over my hips and step out of it. I'm only in my black stockings, panties and bra now.
"Oh, yes," he whispers. "Turn around. Grab your ankles."
I do so. Bending over, I want to look over my shoulder at him. Keep in view. As if that might keep me safe. I bend over, feeling the cool air on the backs of my thighs. I hear him stand up. I close my eyes. Hear him step up behind me. I can almost feel him, an inch from me, his presence.
His hand touches my back lightly, the smooth of his palm, the pads of his fingers. "So sexy," he whispers. He moves his hand down my back, caressing me. Gentle. Intimate. Down to the small of my back. "I'm going to enjoy you," he says, leaning in. "Enjoy your body. I'm going to do everything I've been thinking about since I fucked you in the alley."
I groan, and then immediately bite my lip. His hand reaches the curve of my ass. His other hand touches my other cheek, then he spreads me open. It feels so ridiculously intimate to be spread like this, my lips parting beneath my soaked panties. He moves my legs wider apart, and I feel him crouch down behind me. I can't breathe. I'm waiting. Waiting for that first touch.
When it comes, I nearly jolt with the intensity of it. The tip of his tongue, running down my slit through my panties. "You're so wet," he murmurs, and then his finger traces my lips.
It's almost too much. Almost torture. My knees feel weak. I want to push back against him. I feel his lips as he kisses me over my ass, the brush of his teeth as he takes gentle bites. He cups my sex, the pressure on my clit sending a flash of red through my core, and then rises to his feet.
"Stand." I do so. Almost turn to him, but stop when I see him shake his head. "Go to the bedroom. Now."
His bed is huge. I lie on it, turning onto my back to watch Jack as he pulls his tie free from around his neck. Then he unbuttons his shirt. He's amazing. He has a tribal tattoo of some kind covering his left pec, and text written in lines over his right pec as if it were a page. Ink crawls down his arm in delirious patterns. I want to admire his perfect physique further, but then he takes his tie and blindfolds my eyes.
Darkness. I become incredibly aware of my body. My sense of touch. The cool air on my skin. The heat in my core. He takes one hand and ties it to the bedpost. Takes the other and does the same.
"Are you ready, Bryce?" His voice is dangerous.
I have to swallow before I answer. "Yes. Yes, I am."
He laughs, as if he doesn't believe me. As if I could never be ready. As if I have no idea what's coming.
I'm completely vulnerable. I have no defenses left. He's stripped them from me like my clothing. Reduced me to my physical desire. My painful desire for his touch. His kiss. His body.
I strain to hear him. To anticipate what he's going to do.
I hold my breath and wait.
JACK
My need for her is almost painful.
I want her so badly I'm afraid of what I might do to her.
Hurt her.
Break her.
She's so innocent. She's in way over her head.
I should never have let her get under my skin like this.
But it's far, far too late to stop what we've begun.
<<<<>>>>
End of Book One. Book Two will be available on April 1. Sign up to my mailing list here to be notified of its release.
