Juggernaut

by K. S. Adkins

  Losing his smile, he leans in and says, “We’re engaged, Taylor.”

  “Fictionally engaged,” I correct. “We never discussed other potential –”

  “There are no other potentials,” he warns. “Not for me, and not for you.”

  “Okay, but –”

  “Is that a problem?” he argues, and I can feel his ire. Jesus, if he is like this in the courtroom, I feel bad for the other guy.

  “No,” I whisper. “I just needed to know.”

  This does not relieve him. In fact, it only serves to piss him off more.

  “If I wanted a wife, that would not be difficult to arrange. If I wanted a fling, a phone call is an easy thing to make.”

  “Ouch,” I say with real hurt.

  “My hope,” he continues, “is this engagement, our time together, would naturally lead to something more…”

  Blinking at him in shock, he takes my hand and links our fingers. I mean, he’s dropped hints. Said things like all mine, forever, and my woman. But I haven’t looked too deeply into it. Long term isn’t my norm. But if he is on board, too—feels the same way I do… “To be clear with my intentions; your revolving door of men is locked. As this progresses into more, and it will, that door stays locked. Forever.”

  And just like that, I go from wanting to mount the alpha to punching him in the throat.

  “Excuse me?” I laugh to cover the hurt while taking my hand back. “My revolving door?”

  Wow, this escalated quickly.

  “Your exploits aren’t exactly secret,” he says while reaching for his bourbon. “I witnessed at least a dozen myself.”

  “Exploits?” I can’t believe he actually said it out loud.

  “Taylor,” he sighs. “You forget that for two years I was a witness to it. You are just as destructive in your private life as you are in your social life. At first, I was certain you did it for shock value. But now, I’m certain you did it simply because you could. Because they allowed it, and because you were bored.”

  “You really are something,” I whistle. “You said we were more than what people called us. You all but fucking begged for my chaos and destruction. All of this was your idea, and I signed up because despite being a shitty method actress, I believed in your cause. But you know what? I’m not the one who wants to change. You are. And right now, I have to say you’ve made shit for progress.” Seriously hurt and majorly disappointed, I pushed my plate away ready to leave. But then I decide I’d rather stay and fight. I’m sick of being judged. Especially by the first man who I have been no one but myself with. Gone is the man who’s smile made my stomach dip. In his place sits a man I wanted to cock-punch with my elbow.

  “Where’s Van?” I demand loudly. “Where’s the guy who gave Sylvie his pants, told me he was starving, danced with me, fought for Sugar, and fucked me inside a photo booth? Where is he?”

  “Calm down,” he insists, likely worried about people staring.

  As for me, I am well beyond caring.

  “Eat a cock,” I spit. “You’re all about changing and for what? So, assholes who don’t see you for you will like you? Did you ever stop and think you’re perfect the way you are? That what makes you the person you are today doesn’t need changing?”

  “So, you’re saying you like me for me?” he counters disbelievingly.

  “I’m here, aren’t I?”

  “Because I struck a deal with you,” he points out.

  “Or maybe because I like you as is.”

  “You like me as is?”

  “You know what?” I sigh. “If this is an attempt at wooing me, you suck at it.”

  “First, as hard as it is for me to believe you accept me as is, I’ll… try to do so. Next, this is the second time you used this word, and I still do not know what it means. What the fuck is wooing, Taylor?” he asks exasperated with my tantrum.

  “Fuck if I know.”

  “At the risk of repeating myself,” he leans in. “I like your chaos; you are perfection. Bringing the past into it was wrong and I apologize. I’m not accustomed to jealousy.”

  “What are you jealous of?”

  “Every man that wasn’t me.”

  Well shit, that was sweet.

  “To be fair,” I say softly. “There haven’t been that many.” I even say this with a straight face. The Shit would be proud, but they’d also be on the floor laughing.

  “One more than me,” he whispers back, “is too many.”

  I’m the first to admit his admission does me in. I’m a sucker for romantic lines. Especially when they are sincere and Van says them. So, I switched tactics.

  “I’ll forgive you on one condition.”

  “Name it.”

  “Take me to your place tonight.”

  “Check,” he calls out, and one word never held so much promise.

  For two years, I’ve watched her plow through men and hated every minute of it. Because they weren’t men who challenged her, made her smile, or brought out the best in her. They were fill-ins, disposable.

  And they never lasted.

  Because every last one of them tried to change her.

  Since she agreed to the engagement, I need to establish it’s an exclusive arrangement. Based on her standing in my living room, I’d say I’ve made it quite clear.

  Slip-ups like earlier can’t happen again. Yes, she’s forgiven me. This time. But if I’m not careful, my spouting off about her past will get me curbed like the others. Which is a risk I refuse to take.

  I need to control myself and focus on the future.

  In this, Evander Church would not lose.

  Handing her a glass of wine, I come to her side and peer out the window seeing the view as she does. It truly is beautiful, and the main reason I bought the place. You don’t get views like this often. Until Taylor, I never truly appreciated how fortunate I am.

  “Unreal,” she says, sounding breathless. “I’ve lived here my whole life and have never seen the city like this. It’s stunning, Van.”

  “You’re stunning.”

  “Thank you,” she blushes. “Do you have access to the hotel, too?”

  “And all the amenities, yes.”

  “Do you take advantage?”

  “No,” I admit. “I just sleep here.”

  “Shame,” she says facing me. “I wouldn’t mind seeing you in your swimsuit.”

  Too bad I don’t own one—yet.

  “Do you like your life?” I ask her.

  “Yes,” she smiles. “You don’t?”

  “Not particularly,” I confess. “But it’s the path I chose and until recently, I haven’t realized how little I’ve accomplished in my private life. However, to have a view like this, I have to spend my days in that building.” Pointing to the left, she follows my lead and walks over to the window to see it.

  “If you didn’t practice law, what would you like to spend your days doing?”

  “You’re the first to ask.”

  “Be the first to answer, Van.”

  “I wish I knew, Taylor. Truth is, I don’t.”

  “I was going to be polite and ask for a tour,” she says, running her hands up my chest. “But I’d rather just see your bedroom.”

  Securing her by the waist, I nip her lip and say, “I love that you’re tall.”

  “Yeah?”

  “And strong.”

  “You mean heavy.”

  “No,” I growl, taking her glass and tossing it over my shoulder, uncaring of the shatter. “I meant strong. Able to take my weight as I pound into you.”

  “I like your weight.”

  Liking where we are standing with the moon adorning her, I began to slowly undress her. I take my time with her blouse, opening each button until I see her tits straining to be free of the lace. Leaving it for now, I unzip her jeans while smiling at her tiny moan. Working them down to her ankles, I raise her foot then the other until she’s free. Standing back up, seeing Taylor half-dressed and flushed, causes some
thing in me to snap. Never the aggressor, forever the gentleman allowing the female to set the pace, I say fuck it and pin her to the glass. “More,” she begs, digging her nails into my arms.

  “Careful what you wish for,” I warn her.

  “I said more, Van. Don’t hold back.”

  When she reaches for my shirt, I push her hands away and order, “Arms above your head and keep them there.”

  Slowly complying, I know I should dial it down, but damned if I can. She said more, I have to trust she can take it.

  “I need you,” she whispers, and the desire in her voice undid me. “All of you.”

  Hitching her leg around my waist, I slide her panties aside, insert two fingers to the hilt and growl, “As you wish.”

  Writhing on my hand, riding it hard with her head thrashing, Taylor has me close to coming, and she hasn’t even laid a hand on me. “Inside me,” she moans. “Now, Van.”

  Ripping the rest of her clothes off, I press her harder against the glass. I fist my cock, line it up, and slam home. “Oh God,” she cries to the ceiling.

  “Fuck,” I ground out as pleasure gripped me.

  “Can’t,” she pants. “Believe,” she says while cupping my face. “You’re holding me up.”

  Fucking her harder with upward thrusts and with her tits smashed into my chest, I bite her lip. “I could hold you like this forever.” Wrapping her arms around my neck, I continue to thrust and balance her weight. Despite what she thought, she isn’t heavy. She’s fucking glorious. As if caught by surprise, she moans she’s coming, and I wasted no time following.

  Sweaty, sated, and suddenly exhausted, I carry Taylor to my bedroom and tuck her in. Shedding the last of my clothes, I crawl in next to her and smile when she cuddles against my chest. “I haven’t been carried since I was three,” she says sleepily. “I could get used to you, Van Wilder.”

  Because I am a man who decides on a course and sees it through, I find myself thinking of ways to lock her down.

  Pregnancy.

  Money.

  Blackmail.

  Sadly, I know Taylor isn’t the kind of woman who could be blackmailed or bought off. Knocking her up would be dirty even for me. Especially when I wasn’t wanting children. This means I’ll have to make her fall in love with me the old-fashioned way.

  Fuck.

  Blackmail would have been so much easier.

  I’m in heaven.

  I never want to move from this spot.

  Using my foot for security, I sink even further and sigh.

  Currently, I am tits deep in the world’s most luxurious bath.

  Being tall, I avoid tubs.

  Having your legs hanging out, unable to fully submerge takes the fun out of soaking when half your body’s never warmed up. But this isn’t just any tub. This might even be classified as an Olympic-sized pool. Hell, I could fit a raft in here and still have room. Oh, and the jets? Bliss. If I haven’t had the best sex of my life, I’d turn these puppies on for another round. But after Van’s thorough pounding, I am happy to just relax here and soak.

  I’ve woken up to his hand on my boob, the other on my belly, his leg pinning mine to the bed and his face buried in my neck. It was wonderful, it was sweet, but slightly unnerving, too. Because so far, what I knew of Van I liked, a lot. He could be funny when he wanted, romantic definitely, and could screw like a porn star while holding me up. All pluses in my book. However, I have to remember this engagement started as an arrangement. Evander Church has an endgame. He wanted me on his arm when he lied about our relationship. While I am enjoying him, we both have roles to play, but that doesn’t mean he actually wants marriage or forever with me. How we’ve evolved so far wasn’t typical dating protocol. I know this. I fear he will tire of the honeymoon phase when everything was new and exciting. Honestly, I fear more I will, too.

  I’m in uncharted waters.

  Taylor may want a future with Van, but the juggernaut would not be so easy to convince. Van has been a sport so far, but he has yet to see me full throttle. I may have only had a few episodes, but over time they’ll accumulate.

  As evidenced by my past, a man can only take so much. And I like who I am. But what will be the moment when Evander goes from cheering me on to resenting me? I am terrified to find out.

  I’m not sure I can handle the rejection if it comes from him.

  Most of all, I hate I doubt myself, doubt what we could be.

  Because we are good together.

  We have it in us to be great.

  When I picture the future, I see this ring on my finger, but also one on his.

  It’s official. The water is over my head.

  And the inevitable is just a matter of time.

  “I woke up to an empty bed,” he says from the door. Naked with sleep lines and messy hair, I nearly choke on the bath water when I took in his maleness. “So, you’re a bath person?”

  “Nope,” I grin, making a little splash to hide my sadness. “But I’m making an exception for yours. Not only do I fit, you and a whole jury could fit, too. Care to join me?”

  Eating up the distance, he steps in, eases himself into the water while pulling me with him as he does. Nestled between his legs with my back on his chest, Van covers me with his arms and exhales.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask quietly, wanting to focus on him instead of my fucked-up self.

  “I was thinking about being content. When I graduated from law school my father asked me if I was, and I said yes because it seemed like the right answer. When I made partner, I was asked again and gave the same response. I did this because I truly thought by lying to myself long enough, one day I would actually believe it. My father never bought it because I can feel his disappointment when I tell him what I think he wants to hear. My achievements weren’t paltry, they were hard earned and my reward should have been contentment.” Resting his chin on my shoulder, he whispers, “It wasn’t, Taylor.” Linking my fingers with his, I choose silence, hoping he would continue. “I would watch you at parties, wishing I could find the right words to make you smile, but I never did. I wished I was the one making you laugh, not frown. I wanted you on my arm, I wanted the opportunity to brag about you, to show everyone how lucky I was. Right here, right now, in this tub with your body flush against mine, I’m content, Taylor.” Speechless and unable to turn around, Van kisses my temple and says, “When I introduce you to my father as my future wife and he asks me if I’m content, it will be the first time I won’t have to lie.”

  Oh my God.

  “I don’t want to disappoint you, Van.”

  “Never be anyone but yourself and I won’t be disappointed. I promise you.”

  “Okay,” I agree, but I’m still not convinced I can pull it off.

  Catching me off-guard, he says, “So far, I’ve made you come seven times.”

  “You kept count?” I sputter.

  “Since I appear to be the master orgasm giver, explain to me why you look shocked every time it happens.”

  He was the master orgasm giver, but I do my best to be honest about my past encounters and the daunting task of faking it. I end my rant by explaining Taylor and screaming my own name. But I also feel it prudent to add, “And it was eight orgasms, not seven.”

  “You kept count?” he chuckles.

  “I’m good with numbers.”

  “Making your woman climax is an honor,” he says while tracing my nipple. “No man worth his salt would seek his own before she’s taken hers. Multiple times preferably. Taylor was an amateur, and he was selfish.”

  “I’m not arguing.” And I’m not.

  “Don’t ever fake it with me,” he warns.

  “I sense this is a sore subject. Why?”

  “Because the few lovers I’ve had did, and I didn’t like it.”

  “So, Taylor was selfish, and Whitney was no prize either,” I grin trying to improve his mood.

  “No,” he says, tracing my nipples. “She wasn’t. And just so you know, I n
ever slept with her.”

  Surprised and delighted me, I can’t help but ask, “Did she have a disease?”

  “Yes,” he laughs. “It’s called Miss-o-fun-a-phobia.”

  “You know, if our exes were keepers, we wouldn’t be here right now, Van.”

  “True,” he nuzzles me. ”But here you are, and lucky for you, I decided to keep you.”

  “You decided huh? When did that happen?”

  Easily maneuvering my body to straddle his, he cups my breasts while he looks me in the eyes and announces, “Two years ago.”

  “Van,” I tremble in his arms. “I don’t know what to do with this.” Which is a lie because I know exactly what I want. His last name, but I also don’t want to freak him out.

  “When I said, you scared the shit out of me, I wasn’t kidding.”

  “But…”

  “You scared me because you are everything I’ve wished for. Now that I have you, the thought of life without you…that terrifies me, Taylor.”

  “You don’t know me yet,” I try. “You could change –”

  “I fucking know you,” he insists. “And you know me, too. Question is, what are we going to do about it?”

  Careful of my answer, I keep it light and go with, “How about making me come two more times to make it an even ten? Those are serious bragging rights, Van.”

  Gripping my hips, he asks, “Is it true if a man stops right as a woman is coming she has to start over?”

  “Sadly, yes, and further proof mother nature is a bitch.”

  “Fantastic,” he grins while pulling me toward him.

  “Now, hang on a minute…”

  “Taylor,” he groans. “It’s you who needs to hang on.”

  He wasn’t lying.

  Because of this I hold on for dear life.

  The next morning, he hasn’t lied either.

  Because I wake up with his cock still inside of me.

  I love a man who keeps his promises.