Sudden Desires

by Shanora Williams

  His mouth moves to the crook of my neck, and one hand goes around my waist, tugging me close. He curses beneath his breath, and when he unleashes a purely satisfied moan, I cry to the rooftop, my indulgence echoing past the balcony walls.

  I spasm on top of him, arms locked around his neck, my fingernails digging into his skin. Griffin clings to me, panting raggedly. His sweat smells sweet, and my walls clench with each pulse he spurts inside me.

  “Fuck, Angelina,” he grumbles.

  “What?” I ask, laughing, panting.

  “I just… I don’t even know what to say right now.”

  “You’re silly,” I murmur.

  “And you are amazing.”

  I lift up, battling a smile as I lay beside him. He flops back, blowing out a heavy breath and then pulls me against him.

  Silence cascades down on us like the showers outside and for the first time it’s not awkward.

  We are… satisfied.

  Smiles are on both of our faces, and when he kisses me I feel somewhat… whole.

  Grasping my chin, Griffin’s head tilts down and he kisses my lips. It’s sweet, savory, and makes me clench all over again.

  “You are much naughtier than I thought you’d be, Mr. Boyd,” I tease.

  He chuckles, his hand going down to my hip. Surveying the span of my body, he murmurs, “I don’t think you have much room to talk, Miss Clark.”

  “I am a good girl.”

  “An angel,” he jokes, and I grin, snuggling into his broad chest.

  God, why do I fall even harder when he uses that name on me?

  If only he knew what I was really about. I’m certain then that he wouldn’t call me his Angel.

  Someone knocks on the door, and a light voice calls behind it, stirring me out of my sleep.

  “Housekeeping!” the voice calls. I groggily look at Griffin. He’s still asleep, knocked the hell out. Another knock. “Housekeeping?”

  “Uh… no! Not right now… I don’t think.”

  There is no response, but I do hear the wheels of her cart roll by. Sighing, I flop back down and throw my forearm over my forehead. Griffin is breathing steadily, and when I open my eyes again, an urge hits me.

  I face his large body, the one arm above his head, the other sprawled out. His hair is a mess, so beautiful it would seem wrong to touch it. But I do anyway, and it’s silky soft, just like I remember it to be from last night.

  I look down, and when I see something long and hard prodding through the sheets, my lips twitch. He’s still sound asleep, but I wonder if he’ll feel me.

  Lifting the sheets, I let my hand travel down his set of abs and to the rock between his legs. I massage his balls, and he gets even harder. I’m not sure how that is possible but he does, so I don’t stop.

  I start a stroke along his length, and for some reason the way he murmurs in his sleep and sort of smiles, brings me pleasure, too.

  So I lean into him a little further, stroking slowly, smoothly, until finally he turns from his side to his back. His eyes are still closed, but his lips part, and he groans, shuddering when I run my thumb over his tip.

  I decide to fulfill the moment. Without stopping my strokes, I guide my body beneath the sheets, facing his cock.

  I lower my stroking hand to his balls and rub them gently, carefully, and as I do, I bring his cock into my mouth. I explore him with my tongue, pulling my hair to one side, focusing on one thing: getting him to release again.

  He twitches, and his hand meets at the back of my head. His eyes are squeezed tight, and then he runs his teeth across his bottom lip before sinking them into it.

  All of him is deep down my throat, and he pushes down, heightening my arousal. He starts to speak… whispering. I’m not sure what he’s saying at first, but then it becomes clear.

  “Ahh, yes,” Griffin groans, and my lips curve around his member. “Fuck yes. That feels so fucking good, Colette.”

  My gaze jerks up, and my pleasing comes to a rapid halt. The center of my chest squeezes tight, and I frown while looking up at him. His eyes are still closed, face relaxed.

  I swallow thickly, pulling away and sitting up straight. I shouldn’t be offended by this, should I? His wife’s name is a constant on his lips and he’s just gotten acquainted with mine.

  But for some reason it still bothers me… to know that he still expects her to please him. To feel somewhat forgotten even though we’d just indulged in fantasies we never thought would happen—fantasies that never should have occurred.

  I can’t let him see that I’m upset or bothered, so I take advantage of his drowsiness and climb out of the bed, slipping into my maxi dress that’s puddled by the ottoman and then sliding into my ballerina flats.

  I grab my room key card and walk to the door, slightly defeated as I pull it open.

  I hear a shift behind me, rustling of the sheets as he moves. “Hey,” Griffin calls before I can disappear.

  “Yeah?” I keep my voice as light as possible as I peer over my shoulder.

  He turns a bit, his voice thick with sleep and eyes squinty as he asks, “Where you going?”

  “My room to shower. Clean up a bit.”

  “You can shower here. I don’t mind.” He puts on a genuine smile. I would fall for it if he hadn’t just… well, you know.

  I shrug. “Nah, it’s okay, Griffin. Don’t want to overbook my stay.”

  He laughs. “It’s no problem, Angel. Really.”

  That name now makes my skin feel dry and itchy. My throat thickens with unwanted emotions, but I block it out, squeezing the door handle.

  “You know,” I turn a fraction of the way, holding up a swift finger and shaking my head. “It’s probably best if you don’t call me that, Griffin… Okay?”

  His face yields on the amusement, his brows stitching together as his eyes roam the proximity of my body. He’s trying to figure me out… but I won’t let him get that far.

  I force a smile and loosen my grip on the door handle. “I’ll see you later.”

  He’s hesitant, but I’m out of the door that slowly shuts behind me when he says, “Okay… Angelina.”

  He’s confused, and mildly upset.

  Oh well. This is for the best. I can’t allow myself to get too carried away with him. After all, Griffin Boyd is only my associate, not my lover.

  This only happens once. It definitely won’t happen again.

  ELEVEN

  Griffin

  * * *

  I collect my white, button-down dress shirt and khakis, hanging ironed and crisp in the closet.

  I set it all up on the bed, and after I take a shower, I come back out to get dressed.

  Not once has Angelina left my mind.

  I’m still confused about her departure.

  Is she going to avoid me now?

  Did I say or do something wrong?

  Or did she finally come to her senses and realize, like me, that perhaps we shouldn’t have given into the sudden desire.

  I walk to the bathroom, adjusting my tie as I stare at my reflection. I was drunk, so fucking drunk and so fucking stupid.

  She is my associate. We make a great team—hell, I work better with her than I do with Scott. So why fuck that up? With business, we are great together, but I don’t know what will happen now that I’ve left my trace inside of her.

  I should find out if shit is okay between us. I should go check on her—hope she doesn’t actually regret fucking me.

  After giving my pilot Ted a call and telling him to get the jet ready within the next hour and a half, I grab my room key, march for the door, and listen to it click shut behind me when I get halfway down the hallway.

  I stop at her door and don’t hesitate to knock. I hear the loud whirring of a blow-dryer, but it stops immediately after my heavy knock.

  Her footsteps pitter-patter across the floor and when they stop I know she’s looking out of the peephole. Several seconds pass and when the door doesn’t open, I sigh.

&
nbsp; “Open up, Angelina. I know you’re still in there.”

  There’s still silence on her side, but after a few seconds pass by, the handle clinks and the door swings open.

  She’s wearing a silky pink robe, her hair damp and curly. Her face is clear of makeup, and when she notices my gaze dropping to her cleavage, she pulls the fabric across, uncomfortably concealing herself.

  This woman looks just like the name I can’t help but call her.

  Just like an angel.

  A pure, raw angel with a body to fucking die for. My palm tingles, dying for a feel, and my throat thickens with need when I realize there is absolutely nothing beneath that robe at all.

  Easy access has never seemed so delicious. I know she feels this too—this connection that can’t be denied or avoided.

  I know because beneath her thin, silky pink robe are now a pair of pebbled pink nipples.

  “What?” She folds her arms across her chest.

  “What?” I repeat, stunned by her aggravation.

  “Yeah, what is it? You need something?”

  I frown at first, but to pretend I’m not bothered by her attitude, I ask, “I was just coming by to ask about your flight.”

  “What about it?”

  I inhale before exhaling. She’s testing my patience now. “Is it confirmed? Do you have a way home or will you need my pilot to come back and fly you out?”

  “I have a way back. My flight is at three.”

  “Oh. Okay good. Just checking.” I shift on my feet, narrowing my eyes at her. She matches my stare. I don’t know what’s up and honestly I don’t even think I want to know right now.

  I start to turn and walk back to the room, but then I realize I need to know.

  Did she not like it? Was I too rough? Too eager? Too demanding?

  Everything seemed fine until this morning… when soberness settled in.

  I spin back around and she’s still standing between the frames of her door. One of her eyebrows shoot up but I overlook the guard she puts up, marching ahead and stopping less than an inch away from her.

  Her breath hitches, and her nostrils flare with desire as she stands up straight… and then I know. I know now that those questions I asked before have nothing at all to do with this.

  I wasn’t too rough, or too eager, or even too demanding. I was just right, damn good if you ask me, and she hates that I was.

  “What is your deal?” she snaps.

  “What is yours?” I retort.

  She blows a breath, head shaking.

  When she doesn’t respond, I say, “Be a mature woman and say what’s on your mind, Angelina. Stop beating around the fucking bush. There is obviously something wrong—something I did—so tell me what it is I said… or did—whatever.”

  I mean, seriously. One minute she’s sucking me off, and the next she’s out the door so fast I don’t have enough time to finish. I didn’t even get a chance to release my load. I had to finish with my damn hand and the watery hotel lotion.

  Angelina drops her arms, squaring her shoulders and holding my glare. “You mean to tell me you don’t remember what you said this morning? All after I gave you the best wake up call of your life?”

  My face warps with confusion. “No, I don’t know. What the hell did I say for you to react like this?”

  She huffs a laugh and shakes her head. “This is unbelievable.”

  “Christ, Angelina, I was half-asleep.” I rake my fingers though my hair roughly.

  “Yeah,” she huffs again. “You know what? I don’t even know why I’m getting so upset about this. You said this is just sex, nothing more, and you are right.” She steps back and grabs the door handle again. “Later, Mr. Boyd.” She begins to shut the door but I prevent it, fingers curling around the doors edge.

  “Tell me what I said,” I say through clenched teeth.

  She yanks the door back, stepping so close I can smell the honey wash on her skin, the vanilla saturated in her silky brown locks.

  “It’s funny, Griffin, how you act like you are so unsatisfied and fed up with your wife, yet you still can’t help but call her name.” Her eyes bore into mine as my heart sinks. “But who am I kidding, right?” She shrugs. “I know how men like you are. You get what you want and then forget, which is fine by me, but at least have the decency to say my name when I am the one you can’t keep your eyes or filthy hands off of. At least show some respect to the woman that has shown nothing but genuine respect for you.”

  The seconds tick by, and with each of her words echoing through the hallway, I can’t help but feel a little awful about this. Her frustrations are clear to me now, her anger towards me for a solid purpose.

  Now I see the damage I have caused. I hurt her feelings. What was I thinking?

  I said Colette’s name while Angelina was sucking me off? Why would I do that? Why was I even thinking about Colette in that moment? How could I not realize that it was Angelina with me in the bed this morning, not Colette?

  Angelina is right, but unfortunately I can’t allow her to know that. I can’t because we are, business associates, and I made it clear last night that I am still a married man and that we are only doing one thing: fucking.

  I hate that I have to be the one to burst her bubble, but…

  “I’m sorry, if I offended you, Angelina,” I start, looking her straight in those upset blue eyes. “That wasn’t my objective. Really.” My face solidifies, eyes going hard. “But that is all I will apologize for. You will have to get over it, regardless, because next week we will have a lot of work to do and the future is much more important than me making a minor name mistake.”

  Her mouth gapes, a horrid look of disbelief masking her face. I expect her to say something, but she doesn’t. She only gapes—only hates me a tad bit more.

  “I suggest one thing to get past this, Angelina: We promise never to let it happen again. That way I can never offend or belittle your ego and you can be happy with our business relationship.” I study her with absent eyes.

  I feel fucked-up for saying this, but it’s true. We can’t. It was wrong from the start. It wasn’t even supposed to happen. But, despite my guilt, I remain firm. I don’t leave her much time to respond—to sponge it and grasp what I’m saying.

  She’s a smart girl. She’ll figure it out. I turn and sigh as I murmur over my shoulder, “I’ll see you again, I’m sure, Miss Clark. Have a safe flight home.”

  As I head back to my room I don’t look back. Every single fiber within me that longs for that woman wants me to turn back and look at her, satisfy her, and call bullshit on my statement, but I can’t. My brain wins. And fortunately I don’t.

  I hate how we leave off like this—upset, unfulfilled, and partially undesired. Her smart remarks and pouty faces made me want to fuck her against the nearest wall inside her room and demand that she accept my apology.

  And the truth is she would because she loves my cock. She loved the experience we shared together last night, how I rocked her body from head to toe, dominating what she claimed couldn’t be owned?

  Pshh. Like I said, I proved that theory to be untrue.

  Why else is she getting so crazy on me now about a mistake? I can’t help that Colette’s name was on my mind or even on the tip of my tongue. She always is, and most times it’s not in the best or positive of ways.

  I can tell you one thing.

  Pussy is a powerful thing, but a man’s dick can hold just as much power. It can change a woman overnight, make her feel and say shit that she never thought she’d feel or say.

  There are consequences when a dragon slays a young kitty with all of its’ wrath and pent-up flames. In the end, who comes out on top?

  The poor kitty can’t stand a chance. Why do you think all of the fairytales warn you of the danger of the dragon? They warn you because they are strong, wild, dominant, voracious, and intimidating.

  They have the power to corrupt or destroy you if you allow them.

  Perhaps Angelina an
d her kitty didn’t bring a shield and sword to this battle. Perhaps her pink kitty thought she could tame my ruthless, malicious dragon.

  Well, either way, she thought wrong and I feel terrible for putting a woman like her through it, but I can’t take it back now. There is a lot on the line—too much at risk.

  I can’t bring myself down.

  Not when my life has finally been deemed successful.

  TWELVE

  Angelina

  * * *

  I watch Griffin walk away without looking back even once and I feel so fucking stupid. So idiotic.

  What was I thinking?! Sleeping with Griffin Boyd out of everyone I could have shared my body with—like, I don’t know, someone single!

  When he’s in his room, I rush back into mine, slamming the door behind me and marching for my things. I pack it all up except the outfit I’m wearing today. When I’m dressed and all set to go, I bustle out of my room.

  I need to get the hell out of here. I don’t care where I go, I just can’t be here. I’ll sit at the airport and wait if I have to. I can work to pass time.

  Three hours wait, no big deal, right? It doesn’t matter. Anything beats being under the same roof as that asshole.

  As I hit the down button for the elevator, I hear the sound of a door shutting to the right of me and see Griffin walking down the hall with his suitcase on its wheels.

  I shake my head, focusing on the silver doors in front of me again.

  “Oh, God. Here we go,” I mutter beneath my breath.

  His throat clears quietly as he meets at my side and waits for the elevator as well.

  When the doors finally draw open I can’t help but feel relief… that is until I remember he has to ride down with me too.

  I step to the far right corner after pushing the button for the lobby and Griffin goes into the opposite corner of me, pulling out his cellphone and scrolling through it.

  The floors seem to go by so slowly, each number dragging by as it decreases. I sigh, and when I feel Griffin’s eyes on me, I purposely ignore the weight of them.