The Modern Fairy Tale Collection

by Aria Cole

  “Bend over.” He nodded. “Start cleaning.”

  His order sent shivers of desire through me before I obeyed. I sprayed and wiped the floor, feeling like his slave and relishing his eyes on my body. I dared not sneak a glance, fearful of his reprimand, yet I craved his attention all the same. I twisted in another direction, the wood biting at my knees as I cleaned, thinking this would have been much easier with a mop. But where would the fun have been in that?

  He liked seeing me like this, and the truth was, I loved his hungry gaze eating up my naked behind, seeing the sex glisten down my thighs.

  I wiggled my hips, chancing a glance his way.

  His heavy gaze was on me, his pants now undone and his erection tight in one fist. He tugged slowly, enjoying watching me clean for him.

  “Don’t know how much longer I can take just watching you.” His eyes flashed to mine then back to my round bottom. “So fucking sexy bent over, your pussy bared for me. You’re so fucking wet, sweetheart. Love seeing you so wet for my cock.” He pumped his fist up and down his length, pleasuring himself and sending shocks of arousal coursing through my body.

  I turned and crawled to him, desperate for contact. Twenty minutes apart had been long enough. I reached his heavy body, his legs spread wide, his straining erection thick in his heavy hands.

  He was beautiful, like a Greek god sent here to drive me mad with lust. Turn the virgin into a whore—that was what Maxwell did. My hands trailed up the smooth fabric of his slacks before reaching his knees, relishing every hard, angled inch of him.

  He watched me, riveted, as one corner of his mouth twisted up in a sexy half smile. “Come sit on me,” he purred in a throaty voice that had my nerves buzzing with anticipation.

  I crawled up his body, feeling his roughened fingers make contact with my waist. He’d shamed me by making me clean his floor naked, and I was repaying him by letting him have me. The real me. For the first time ever, without my mess of a life haunting me, I could be here, with him, living in the moment. No one had given me that gift before.

  His hands gripped my hips as he positioned me above his giant erection, then I slowly eased down onto it. His head fell back, exposing his throat to my hungry lips. I felt the stretch and pull of my muscles around his length. I trailed kisses up his throat and around the stubbled cut steel of his jaw. My fingers dug into his shoulders when his hips jerked, stabbing inside me with decadent precision.

  “So beautiful,” he whispered before his hand was in my hair and arching my neck back so he could repay me with kisses across my collarbone, up the hollow of my neck, then sucking on the delicate flesh beneath my earlobe.

  I sighed, enjoying the feel of him inside me, before his fingers tightened, holding my hips in place. He took control, thrusting harder, his breaths more ragged and his eyes alive with passion.

  “I don’t know what brought you here, but I’m never letting you go.”

  He swelled inside me, growing impossibly thicker before one of his rough thumbs slid between us and connected with my clit. I choked on heaving breaths as he swirled and pinched, his fingers and words urging my orgasm on until the feelings running through me were nearly unbearable.

  “Let it go, baby.” His fingers worked smaller circles as he thrust deeper. “Let it all go.”

  His lips met my ear, and the sizzling sensations of his warm breath chasing across my skin sent my orgasm spiraling down to the tips of my toes and coursing endorphins through my brain. I collapsed on his hard body, feeling so thoroughly loved.

  He was still buried inside me, rubbing sensitive nerves and chasing his own orgasm. He left me lightheaded with pleasure until his own body tightened beneath me, his hands clutching at my neck and hair as his climax climbed through his body and his head thrust back in waves of primal release.

  I watched him, riveted as his full lips parted. The dark slashes of his eyebrows framed his high cheekbones and the dark lines of his eyelashes. My fingertips trailed up to tease the bow of his top lip, my thumb darting across the slash of his cheekbone.

  “You’re so beautiful,” I uttered, thinking out loud.

  His heavy bellow made my cheeks turn up in a smile. “Hardly. Must be something wrong with your eyes.”

  “There isn’t a thing wrong with my eyes.” I sighed and curled into his chest. “You’re just not used to getting compliments.”

  “Well, that’s probably true,” he said before his hands circled around my back and sheltered me from the chilled air. “But you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” His head dipped, and I felt him take a long inhale of my hair. “Smell like strawberries.” His softened erection twitched inside me.

  “Strawberries turn you on?” I giggled and wiggled on his lap.

  “When they smell like you, they do.”

  He took me in a long kiss then, pressing against my lips with bruising force. His tongue tangled with mine and showed me, in every single way, that I was cherished.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Elle

  Later that night, after having messy sex on his apartment floor and ordering takeout from the only place in this tiny town that was still open, Maxwell walked me home to my two-story walk-up that, in all honesty, kind of gave me the creeps. I felt Maxwell’s body tensing as we approached the small sidewalk that led to my place. The streetlight was broken, making the night here darker than the rest of the well-lit neighborhoods surrounding the square.

  I swallowed, thinking about all that had happened between us over the last few days. I’d hardly been home since he’d swooped me out of here after Tony showed up. Maxwell had told me a little about his scar, which felt like an achievement of some sort, and he’d taken my virginity. I’d given it to him. I was a different woman now; I could feel it. More confident, composed. More grown-up somehow.

  “Maybe you should think about staying at my place,” Maxwell said as we approached my dim stoop. I fished in my bag for the keys before Maxwell huffed, swinging the main entrance door wide open. “So much for fucking safety.”

  I could hear the anger in his voice. He really was worried about me.

  “It’s okay. I’ll talk to the landlord about it.”

  I followed him up the stairs. We reached the landing, and I was about to thrust my keys out to open my door when Maxwell pushed it open without resistance.

  “Gonna talk to him about this too?” Maxwell growled as we stepped into my apartment, finding it ransacked.

  “Oh my God,” I whispered and placed a hand over my mouth. The cheap couch cushions were slashed. Silverware and dishes poured out of the cupboards and were broken across the kitchen counter.

  “You’re moving in with me,” were the only words Maxwell said before he clasped my hand and yanked me down the hallway.

  I stood dumbfounded as he pulled clothing from the dresser and closet, stuffing it into the few bags I had.

  “Should I call the police?”

  “I’ll take care of it,” he said before his hand locked with mine again. “Anything else you need here?” His eagle eyes darted around the room, cataloging the small life I’d lived in this town.

  Maybe it was time I picked up and left again. The past was following me no matter how hard I tried to escape it.

  “Hey.” Maxwell shook me from my thoughts. “You listen to me. Whoever did this will pay. We’ll call the police so there’s a record, but believe me, this is personal. Nobody fucks with what’s mine.”

  Fear coiled in my stomach. I hadn’t realized until now what he might be capable of. I shook my head, shock shaking my fingers. I wanted nothing more than to be wrapped up in Maxwell’s warm bed above the library and hide out until everything was over. But when? When would it ever be over? As long as he was alive and pulling me back in, I would always be running from something, no matter what Maxwell thought he could do.

  I sucked in a shallow breath before Maxwell ushered me back down the steps, both of my heavy bags thrown over his one shoulder. His other hand
was firmly locked with mine as long strides carried us across the town common. Back to his house, the library, my safe place. At least for now.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Maxwell

  I called the police and had them at my apartment in less than twenty minutes after we arrived home. Elle had begged me not to tell them about the visit from Tony the other day, saying he probably wasn’t even related to anything. It was random, she kept insisting. For once, I agreed with her.

  Not about the random part. I believed full goddamn well that Tony had had something to do with the burglary at her apartment. The only thing missing was her laptop, which contained vital financial information.

  What I agreed with her about was not telling the police about Tony. I would deal with him with my own brand of justice, and it would require keeping things on the down-low. More publicity was not something I needed.

  So I played the pleasant boyfriend, holding her hand and listening as she rattled off the few details about her time at that shit hole of an apartment, and I waited, biding my time. After the police left and Elle went to lie down for a while, I pounced. By this time tomorrow, I’d make sure our little problem was gone, no matter the consequences.

  Feeling like a dishonest bastard and caring not one ounce, I flipped through the contacts on her phone, which she’d left on the counter, until I found the last name Scardelli. Of course she had his name in her phone. This girl had more secrets than I did, and that was no small feat.

  I glanced over my shoulder, making sure soft breathing was all I could hear, before I stepped down the long stairway and dialed the number on my own phone.

  “Hello?” a strange voice answered, gargled and drowsy with sleep or drink.

  “Tony?”

  “Yeah?” he asked, waking up at the warning in my voice.

  “Elle’s boyfriend. We need to have words.”

  That certainly woke him up because I heard a quick shuffle then a throat clearing.

  “Sure. When? Where?”

  “The town common, out in front of the library. How soon can you be here?”

  “Uhh, quick. Give me ten minutes.”

  “Great,” I growled and hung up, my fists clenching at my sides. I wasn’t sure what I’d have to do to keep her safe.

  I stood in a dark hoodie, waiting near the streetlamp next to the steps of the library. A dark figure walked up minutes later, a cigarette burning in one hand before he threw it into the dark street.

  I hated him with every pore in my tightly strung body.

  “You’re her boyfriend?” he huffed, recognition settling in his eyes when he stepped up.

  The measly fucker reminded me of a rat, unkempt with the smell of beer and pizza on his breath. Fucking lowlife. How had her father gotten her involved with these people?

  “What’ll it take to get you the fuck out of town?” I growled, shoving my hands in my pockets to keep myself from landing a blow to his cheekbone. I could shatter it; I’d done it before.

  “Two hundred thousand.” Arrogance ate up his words.

  “Two hundred?” I disguised the barbs that clawed at my chest with his request.

  Money. It always came back to money. Maybe she had found her way into my library for a reason.

  So what now? I loved her. I knew that much. I also knew I couldn’t trust this guy. Weighing him down with cement boots didn’t sound like a half-bad idea, but that would only invite more suspicion.

  I clenched my fists at my sides, my mind reeling with the possibilities. What I knew for sure was that she didn't have a penny to her name, and didn’t desperate people do desperate things? Maybe she’d stumbled across an old article about me and knew my history. Maybe she’d sought me out for that reason alone.

  But that couldn't be, right? The way she came alive underneath me, calmed my raging mind and giggled like a sweet child at my jokes. Dammit, I loved her, and I knew, as with anyone I loved, that meant I only had one option.

  “Two hundred and I never see your rat-bastard face again? Because I can promise you if I do, I’ll fucking pulverize it. Your mother won’t even recognize you.”

  “Don’t shoot the messenger asshole.”

  “Fuck off.” I wrapped a palm around his throat, cutting off his windpipe with ease. “I”ll get you your fucking money, not for you but for her. That girl was given a bad start in life, saw way too fucking much, and I’m the one that has to show her what real love feels like because that motherfucker you work for never could.” I cocked one arm back, flexing my fist and very willing to shatter his jaw if only he gave me the opportunity.

  The asshole’s eyes held mine, jaw tense as his nostrils flared with each ragged breath. “Two hundred and I’ll tell him you made the drop off and left town with her. Wouldn’t say where you were going.” He paused, eyes round and nailed to mine. “She deserves a good life. You’d better fucking give it to her.”

  “She’s the only thing that matters to me.” I grit, releasing my grip on his neck. “If I ever see a fucking shadow creeping in an alleyway that so much as fucking looks like you, I’ll make a call to a federal agent I know up north. You got that?”

  His eyes narrowed before he nodded quickly.

  “Wait here.” I turned and stalked up the steps, heading for the back room of the library, which I kept hidden and dead-bolted.

  For the first time in four years, I’d be digging into the vault. For her.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Elle

  I woke in the middle of the night to the soft thud of a heavy door closing. My heart leapt in my throat when I reached for Maxwell and found only empty sheets.

  A minute later, I heard heavy grunts and the sound of fists meeting something solid. I got up and followed the echoes down the hall, where found Maxwell landing fist after fist on a punching bag secured to the ceiling in the dining room. It looked like he took out his aggression on the equipment, and he seemed to have a lot of aggression right now. It was hot. He was hot. But the look in his eyes was also a little frightening, a little dangerous. I turned to pad back to the bedroom, thinking I would leave him be. Until he caught me.

  His fist wrapped around my elbow and hauled me back against his solid chest. His arm held me to him as one palm wrapped around my neck, the fingers dancing across my jaw. He felt so large, so in control, so dominant, and every move he made left me weak with arousal.

  “Don’t turn away from me.”

  He whipped me into his arms, then his lips were crushing my own as his tongue thrust down my throat with fierce abandon. His kisses were bruising, his hands kneading at the flesh of my ass and hips—this was different. This was touching the live wire. This was a side of Maxwell I’d not seen yet. It felt like flirting with danger, and it curled my stomach in delicious ways.

  “I’m sorry,” I whimpered against his lips, my own swollen from his kisses.

  “I can’t bear seeing you turn away from me.” He lifted my tank over my body. “Show me how I make you feel.” He sounded almost pleading before his heavy hands were in my hair, his dark eyes biting with an edge of lust I wasn't used to seeing from him. “Show me you need me.”

  I dropped to my knees, eyeing his erection jutting angrily between us. I hollowed my cheeks and sucked him in, feeling his fingers pulling at my hair. The tip of his length pressed at the back of my throat.

  “Good girl.”

  His endearment fueled my pent-up passion. I loved him with this wild edge, the bite in his fingers, the raw, bruising force of him.

  His hands were suddenly lifting me from my knees and pressing my chest against the wall. I squirmed, feeling mishandled but in his special way. Then he slid his thick length past my soaked lips, and soft sighs fell from his throat as he rocked against me.

  I finally felt connected with him, though I missed his skin beneath my fingertips. I clutched at the beige paint of his apartment walls, wishing desperately to feel his muscles tensing under my palms, to see him face-to-face instead. This more impersonal a
ct turned me on, but I missed the emotional connection we’d shared before. His thrusts grew erratic before he finally seated himself inside me and I felt the hot spurts of his release coating my insides.

  Without a word, he pulled out slowly. His molten sex flowed down my thighs, making me feel more like a whore than someone cherished and loved. Was this what he’d meant when he’d spoke of hurting people? Of being unlovable and dangerous? Was this what I would have to endure for his love?

  I waited for the comforting palm that usually caressed me after our bodies disconnected, his gentle acknowledgement, or at the very least, his fingers at my clit, bringing me to my own satisfying orgasm. But I got none of those things. Instead, I found myself empty and alone in the living room as Maxwell walked down the hallway. I heard the shower spray. Not a word had passed between us.

  Where had the gentle man who had made love to me last night gone? Was this what he’d meant about needing more? He liked angry, impersonal sex? Well, I didn’t think that would do for me. I’d thought he cared, had feelings. This man caged a monster inside and I’d already had more than enough hurt by the men in my life.

  I swallowed the stubborn lump of tears in my throat and went back to his bedroom. I slid a top over my body then tucked myself into his cool sheets, hoping the man who would join me would be the man I’d found myself starting to fall for, not the man who took advantage of my feelings and used my body.

  I burrowed into the cotton, tears hovering at my eyelids. I was about to fall asleep when I heard the soft snick of the door, then his quiet footsteps approached the bed.

  “I’m sorry.” His heavy form descended on me. “I had a rough night. I should have taken care of you.” His fingers caught my chin. Warm and loving, gentle and masculine.