by Aria Cole
“Anything I can help with?” I leaned closer and saw her eyes dilate before her shoulders relaxed. Her lips pressed forward so fucking close to mine I had to stop myself from closing the distance between us and finding out what she actually tasted like.
“I hope so,” she purred in such a seductive way I was sure she’d done it before. Fooled some other poor asshole into falling for her before she walked away, that sexy giggle and round ass headed for the horizon.
I licked my lips, my eyes riveted on hers. “Why don’t you tell me what it is?”
She sucked a lip between her teeth like a minx before leaning in closer, her lips hovering at my ear so close I thought my dick might burst my fucking zipper. I pressed my hips into the cold wood, begging for relief. I needed to fuck her soon. I couldn’t get my mind off her.
With a hint of vanilla and strawberries floating around me, her lips landed softly at the vein that throbbed in my neck. She whispered, “I was thinking…”
My heart pounded, rapping at the cage of my chest to escape. She was kissing me. Her fucking lips were on me. My eyes fell closed, and I rooted myself to the spot. A woman’s lips hadn’t touched my skin in years.
Her soft lips parted before her nose trailed up my skin to my earlobe. “I was thinking… food.” She said the last word before dragging her teeth across my earlobe, sending lightning bolts and thunder straight into my balls.
“Fuck,” I growled, my fists clenching around the lip of the counter as I struggled for strength.
“Something on your mind?” She stood from the chair, crossing her arms with a smile. Chestnut waves fell over one shoulder, curling around her breasts and highlighting her deep cleavage.
“I’m going to need to get you out of that shirt. Soon.” I leaned across the desk, riveted on her tits as I spoke. I didn’t give a fuck if I scared her. Let the angry snarl and the bite in my words turn her on or send her running. I had nothing to lose. I’d locked myself up in this place for almost a decade, real life too hard to face after the tragedy I’d suffered, and still she was here, not running from me. “You don’t know who I am, Elle. Touch me like that again, and you may not like what I do.” My eyes danced down the deep neckline of her shirt—one I was sure she’d worn for me, accentuating all her soft dips and curves.
“I’m sorry.” Her gaze moved from my eyes to the scar that slashed my right cheek then down to the ground.
Jesus Christ, I’d scared her. She was a timid thing, and all I wanted to do was fuck that fear right out of her. I didn’t want her to be scared of me; I wanted her to feel safe, wanted, and beautiful.
I stepped back and took a long look, taking in all her beauty.
“Lunchtime.”
Chapter Six
Elle
“Hope you like noodles,” Maxwell boomed as he pulled takeout containers from the bag.
“I do, thanks for asking.” No one other than my mother had thought of feeding me before. My mind wandered to the apartment where I was staying and the junk food I was rationing. Money was so tight, and the idea of splurging on something like a warm meal just wasn’t worth it.
His eyes darted to mine. “I hope you’re not one of those salad-type girls. I hate that. It always makes me uncomfortable.”
His voice was authoritative and firm, and I smiled. One look at me and you would know salad wasn’t exactly what I was consuming.
I twirled a forkful of lo mein, took a bite, and tried to chew through my smile. Not only did he send my stomach into a twist, but apparently his favorite takeout was rather messy to eat. I prayed I didn’t look awful eating. Some women knew how to make anything look sensual while I just prayed I didn’t end up with food all down my face and clothing. I was already at a disadvantage with my size sixteen hips and soft belly. I didn’t want him to think less of me.
Maxwell’s eyes traced over my body, lingering at my waist and the swell of my breasts, as if he actually liked what he saw before he twirled a long forkful of noodles and stood. “I told you earlier, tangle with me and you may not like the result, Elle.”
My heart thumped as my eyes wavered over that jagged slice on his cheek before I turned away, both on edge and turned on. He stepped up to my chair, his thick frame towering over me. My eyes were directly in line with his bulging manhood. Seeing it made my core twist with want, and to my embarrassment, my throat made a sound similar to a groan.
“Eyes up.” His heavy hand yanked on my chin with only a little bit of warning before he let go and fisted the back of my shirt.
Before I knew what was happening, my shirt was over my shoulders, and the cool air was bristling my bare skin. I sat before him in a plain white cotton bra and feeling the warmth of his gaze. Everywhere.
I squirmed and swallowed, my eyes drifting to the outline of the hard erection just inches from my lips. I licked my lips before his arm was suddenly around my waist and he was pushing me up onto the small table we’d been eating at. It wobbled, and a takeout container of noodles fell onto his chair, but he didn’t care.
“Been dying to taste you,” he growled as his nose ran up my body, across the indent of my navel, and between the concave of my cleavage.
He reached my lips and pressed the fork with noodles there, encouraging me to bite before he took a bite with me, our tongues twisting with the noodles in some sort of ramped-up, sexualized version of Lady and the Tramp before he nipped and pulled away.
Oh my.
I squirmed and swallowed with aroused dread when his head darted between my legs and his heavy hands pulled apart my thighs. Jesus, I’d dreamed this. This moment right here, only in my dreams, he was naked and entering me. Was I ready for that? For him?
“Watch me,” he ordered.
And I did. I watched, riveted, as his tongue darted into my navel and swirled. Oh… my… gosh. He was going to make me come. My first orgasm was going to be on a break room table with takeout containers instead of candles. I wiggled again, feeling his body nestled between my legs when his palms tightened at my thighs in nonverbal warning.
“Too fast.” His dark eyes held mine with an intensity I’d never seen.
He scared me, surprised me, terrified me. He was like an animal. He continued his assault on my senses and licked his way up my sternum and under the curve of one breast, stopping to bite at the flesh peeking out, before he curled his tongue under one bra strap and teased me with his teeth.
Take it off. Please take it off. I moaned wantonly in my head, my insecurities preventing me from saying the words out loud.
“Not yet,” he admonished as if hearing me. “Savoring you.”
His fingertip darted between my legs and rubbed at the seam covering my wet core. A deep rumble emanated from him and sent my nerves pulsing with raw, hot arousal.
“So eager, though.” He continued his attack up the curve of my breasts and across my collarbone before he found my lips.
I sighed, not knowing what to expect but knowing he could do anything to me right here and I’d let him. I was powerless against him, and I found myself liking it.
In the next breath, he covered my mouth in a kiss. He tasted like Thai spice and leather, dark and heady, all-consuming and overpowering. My hands instantly found his bulging biceps beneath the fine thread of his vest. He turned me on, he loved my body, and I drove him to his knees with desire.
My hips bucked and rocked against his straining erection as I silently begged for more of him. I was desperate and felt as though we’d taken forever to get here even though it surely hadn’t been long enough. But living a lifetime without the person you were put on Earth to be with felt like a lifetime too.
Chapter Seven
Maxwell
I yanked away, panting as I felt the last vestiges of my control trailing from my brain and landing at my angry cock. I couldn’t do this, wasn’t ready, not yet. Too soon. Back off. You’ll hurt her.
The demon in me roared, begging for release, but I couldn’t let him harm her. Couldn't let m
e harm her.
So I turned and walked away, straight out of the break room and into the library. I sped up the stairs and headed for the cold shower I’d been in just this morning after beating off with her scarf, and now here I was again. My finger smelled of her sweet nectar; the taste of her strawberry scent was on my tongue.
Goddammit. With a slam of the door, I tore off my vest, ripped the trousers down my legs, and threw off my white shirt just in time to jump in the shower and grasp my thick, demanding dick with both palms. I squeezed the base tightly then pumped with my right hand, twisting at the tip as I thought of the taste of her skin, the feel of her tongue against mine, the smell of her fucking pussy pulsing with wetness for me. I came in long spurts that covered the creamy tile before trailing down the drain.
My chest heaving, cold water pounding my back, I landed against the shower wall, angry that I’d let go with her like that. Too soon. I’d probably scared her off. I’d find her long gone, never to return. Then I’d be left without a librarian’s assistant and without my beautiful Elle. What a fucking sad case I would be. Just as I had been all the days before she’d stepped into my life.
I wound my way back downstairs ten minutes later, feeling more composed but no more at ease than I had before leaving her in a thunderous rage. I was surprised to find the sign flipped to “Open” and Elle behind the circulation desk, a smile on her face as she helped an elderly woman.
“It’s about a billionaire who likes to…” the old woman whispered, seeming embarrassed.
I didn’t need to hear her words to know what she wanted. Women came in here multiple times a week looking for the naughty shelf.
I grinned when Elle’s eyes widened for a moment before she blushed then came around the desk to escort the woman to the endcap of books I’d told Elle most of the women came here for. We should really expand that section. Maybe I’d put her on the task of researching some popular independent titles we could order.
Elle turned, and her eyes fell on mine, a frown crossing her face before she went back to her post at the circulation desk. Fuck. I had messed up already. Maybe I could get her flowers or some shit. Wasn’t that what a man was supposed to do when he wanted to say sorry? I ran a palm through my hair, feeling so far out of my comfort zone it was ridiculous. I half wanted to fire her just to avoid the anxiety of it all.
But I needed her. And I sensed something in her. Something that needed protecting. I felt it deep in my bones, and my cock didn’t mind having her around either. So having her here seemed a win-win for all. I wasn’t good at romantic gestures, but I was willing to give it a try if it meant keeping her around.
Chapter Eight
Elle
I sneaked out early, before Maxwell could tie me up with his dark gaze and intoxicating tongue. I’d given him a fake address on the application, but I wouldn’t have put it past him to follow me. He seemed to be almost obsessed with me—as if his desires might consume him. Looking at him was like looking at two different beings: the man and the beast. Maxwell Black haunted me in ways I couldn't even describe.
I pounded up the steps of my two-story walk-up on the backside of town, only a few blocks from the library but more than a few left and right turns to confuse someone. I didn’t want to be found in this tucked-away, tiny upstate town. I needed a break from the crazy I’d left, but I thought I was jumping into another intense situation. But it’s just sex, a little devil in the back of my mind reminded me.
We could just be friends who had sex, couldn’t we? I dismissed the idea with a shake of my head, knowing deep down it would never work for a girl like me. I wore my feelings on my sleeve; no way could I be intimate with someone and not allow it to lead to more. My heart was just too big.
My thoughts drifted to a memory of something my mother used to say after my father would turn his sights on my fragile, young ego, calling me a fat, disgusting pig before roaring out of the house in a drunken rage and shacking up with yet another strange woman for a few weeks. Momma would hold me so tightly in those moments that I thought my lungs might burst, but as she rocked me against her chest, tears in both our eyes, she promised that I was beautiful. She said I was a strong and beautiful woman and that my heart was so massive that it couldn’t even fit in the bodies of those other women. My father didn’t see the beauty of hearts.
My heart shuddered as those painful words resonated in my mind.
I stepped through my apartment door and grabbed the takeout pizza menu from the fridge before dialing and placing an order for delivery. I was starving. Getting this job at the library meant I could finally afford a proper dinner, and I would make it last a few days.
While lunch with Maxwell had been interesting, I hadn’t been able to stomach more than a bite. Then after he’d stomped off as if I’d burned him with acid, I sat in the bathroom for ten minutes, praying he wouldn’t come back down and ask to see me, tears streaming down my face. Whatever his reaction was, it’d felt like rejection, and my immediate instinct had been to run and hide. Not let anyone see my pain, keep it strong, internalize. Vulnerability showed weakness, and weakness wasn’t something I could afford. Not if I was going to keep a low profile and start a new life.
So while Maxwell had left my tummy in twists all day, it’d also started to eat itself. I hung up after ordering from the only pizza place in town and stalked to the bathroom, shedding my work clothes on the way and stopping in the bedroom to pull on comfy leggings and a tank top. I threw my hair into a ponytail then stepped into the bathroom. A plump girl with uneven skin and frizzy hair stared back at me. I frowned then tried to see what Maxwell might see. He couldn’t seem to keep his hands off me, and while I’d never felt especially pretty before, he made me feel like a goddess. Or maybe he was just a hermit who hadn’t had contact with a woman in decades.
My unruly Italian locks never obeyed and were always getting in my face, but maybe that added to the mystery. I pulled my hair down and flipped it over one shoulder, making a kissy face like Greta Garbo in the mirror. My lips were full—at least there was that. I remembered the bite of his teeth against my bottom lip earlier and shuddered at the release it’d brought.
My eyes fell to the curve of my bust, my nipples hard and pebbled through the thin cotton of my tank top.
I sighed, pulling my hair back and thinking it wasn’t good for anyone to look at themselves for too long in the mirror, before a loud rap, rap pulled me into the living room.
“That was quick,” I said as I opened the door, thrusting money in the stranger’s hands. The stranger without a pizza.
“You always throw money at strange men?” Maxwell Black’s dark eyes danced with mischief.
I huffed, turning and tossing the money on the table. I’d already accepted that he was here, invading my space and my life, which he’d been doing a lot of lately.
“Why’d you run out so quick?” Maxwell closed the door before following me into the small galley kitchen.
“I just needed to get my thoughts together after you ran out on me and all at lunch.” Oh man, where had that come from?
He laughed awkwardly and put a hand through his hair. “‘Bout that. I should have explained.”
“It’s okay. ‘You’re not pretty enough. It’s too soon. It’s not you; it’s me.’ I’ve heard it all. I don’t need to hear another excuse.”
“Pretty enough? Are you fucking kidding me?” He nearly lunged across the small space, and his big hands wrapped around my shoulders as if he was about to shake some sense into me.
I shrugged, avoiding his eyes as tears burned in mine. Rejection took the air out of my lungs as if the ground had fallen out from under me. Like a cold truth biting my face, whispering that I was simply not good enough… that was why I didn’t do this dating thing well. I remembered it all now.
“You’re fucking gorgeous. You walk away, and I want to sink my hands into that ass and fuck you until neither one of us can see straight,” he said and swept the air from my lungs.
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What?
“I like a woman to look like a woman. Something to hang on to when I fuck. I love your soft curves, the beautiful roundness of your belly. The curves of your body are magical, my own personal roadmap to heaven. I’m a hard man—a rough man. I want a beautiful woman to touch.” He leaned closer. “I want my hardness to become lost in you.”
His words sent shudders up my neck and sent need coursing through my synapses.
“So you are more than pretty; you’re perfect. You’re everything. I love your body.”
His palm ran up my waist and curved around my breast, lifting its heavy weight.
My breath skipped, and my knees wobbled before Maxwell lifted me by my thighs and set my ass on the edge of the counter. I wrapped my thighs around his hard waist and nestled his straining length between the heat of my legs, only thin cotton separating us. Jesus, he was huge and hard. Every long, hard inch pressed the roughened fabric of my clothes against my clit. My breaths grew shorter as I thought about how much I wanted him—really wanted him. Taken and owned by him. This ravaged man with the angry scar slashed across his cheek and the words that came out in a grizzly tone that sent lightning bolts straight to my clit.
A bell chimed through my small apartment.
“Jesus Christ,” Maxwell uttered, his heavy hands holding my thighs tightly, his hips rocking minutely against my body.
“Pizza,” I whispered and laid my forehead on his shoulder in frustration.
“I’m trying to get inside you, but there’s always an interruption.” He dropped his hands from my thighs, pulling me down his body and off the counter.
I stalked to the door, prepared to hand the delivery guy a bill then drop the pizza at the table and go back to having my legs wrapped around Maxwell’s taut physique.
Instead, when I opened the door, a pair of familiar eyes met mine. My heart thudded and echoed in my ears.
