Fall for Him

by J.C. Valentine

  “Oh, sure. No problem. It’s 419-Go-Fuck-Yourself.”

  With a movement that’s too quick to register, Rebel grabs a hold of my face and squeezes, tearing a startled gasp from my lips. “Was that a request?”

  “More like a suggestion,” I reply, my words slurring from the inability to speak properly through pinched together lips.

  “Hmm, well, I have a better suggestion.” Shoving the chair I’m leaning against away, he backs me into the table and, using my face as leverage, bends me backwards until I’m laid out flat on the hard wood.

  With his free hand, Rebel gathers my skirt and pushes it roughly up to my hips, then parts my thighs with his, insinuating himself between them. Lowering his face to within inches from mine, he growls, “How about instead of standing here listening to you run your mouth I peel your panties off right here, stuff you full of my cock, and fuck you against this table until the only thing you can use that mouth for is screaming my name?”

  Without wasting a second, Rebel’s mouth crashes down on mine, stealing my words, stealing my breath, and stealing my wits. Without another thought in my head, I open my mouth and my legs to him and begin to sink, a willing victim to his spell.

  Four

  “Stop. Wait.” Tearing my mouth away from his, I struggle to gather my wits, but Rebel doesn’t miss a beat. His mouth moves lower, tasting the skin on my throat and traveling lower to my breasts. Between my legs, his hand works quickly, releasing the button on his slacks and lowering his fly, allowing his cock to spring free.

  He’s already tugging at my panties, moving them aside for easier access. I can’t allow this to happen. Rebel can’t just waltz into my life and demand that I do what he wants. That may have been the case before, but now I’m running the show. Or, at least, I’m trying to. This isn’t going as planned at all.

  Manipulating my limbs and completely ignoring my feeble attempt to push him away, Rebel aligns his cock with my entrance and begins a slow rocking motion with his hips, edging his way inside me painfully slowly.

  Taking hold of his shoulders, I fight to keep the moan that’s climbing up my throat down. Lying to myself, I tell my body that this means nothing to me. That anything I loved about this man is dead and buried. Feeling his cock slide into me does not make me quiver with need.

  “Mmm, you’re pussy’s gripping me so tight,” Rebel purrs. Curving his hands around both of my thighs, he splits me open wider until the tendons in my legs are uncomfortably tight. “And you’re so wet... I don’t think you want me to stop. I think you want me to keep going. You want me so deep it hurts, don’t you, pussycat?”

  I do. When Rebel fucks me, he leaves a lasting impression. Every time I feel the pinch of him hitting my cervix, I cry out for more because no man has ever done to me what he has. He rules my body, takes ownership of every inch. To be possessed by someone so powerful and commanding is to know true pleasure.

  “Stop, Rebel,” I gasp instead, denying us both what we want most.

  His hips stop moving, and Rebel lifts up to look down at me. His expression is hard but confused. I can’t blame him. I can’t remember ever telling him no before. But I have to now. I can’t keep repeating the same pattern and expecting different results. I have to be strong enough to stand up to him and protect myself. I have to remember that he’s not good for me.

  Placing my hands on his chest, I push him back, sitting up as his body withdraws fully from mine. We are completely exposed to one another, his cock still hard, my panties caught up on one side.

  “No?” he asks in disbelief.

  Adjusting my clothes so that I am fully covered and presentable again, I address him firmly. “No. I won’t be your whore anymore, Rebel. I have too much respect for myself to allow you to continue abusing my trust. We’re over, so I expect that you’ll keep your distance the next time you see me around.”

  Rebel snatches my arm as I move around him to leave. “Abuse your trust? Is this some kind of hormonal fit?”

  “Why do men always insist on blaming hormones whenever a woman calls them on their bullshit or tells them they’re not interested?” It’s a rhetorical question, and one I don’t expect an answer to. “The only thing you need to concern yourself with is staying the hell away from me.”

  I tug at my arm, but he refuses to let me go. Dark eyes pinning me, Rebel uses my arm to guide me back to the table, forcing me to sit on its edge. Bending down, he presses his palms down on either side of me, bringing his face level with mine.

  “I want answers, and you’re not leaving this room until I get them. Now, start with why you changed your number.”

  Holding his gaze, I glare back at him, hoping he sees the hatred in mine. “I got tired of dealing with your shit.”

  “Try again,” he growls, his lip curling up on one side. “The truth this time.”

  “Fine, I decided I was done with you. Are you happy now?”

  “Not even a little. What’s in Virginia? And before you go acting all surprised, know that I have connections that run far and deep.”

  My heart is thundering in my chest. I don’t like where this is going. When I reply, I force my voice to remain strong and steady. “If that’s true, then you should already know the answer.”

  “Oh, I do. But I want you to tell me anyway.”

  So it’s a test? I want to slap him, but Rebel seems dangerous right now. On edge. I want to believe that he wouldn’t hurt me, but I’m not entirely sure that he wouldn’t hit me back. “I went to see my friend,” I say grudgingly.

  “You didn’t travel alone.”

  I shouldn’t be surprised that he knows about Brody, too. To him I say, “A girl can’t be too careful these days.”

  Rebel studies me for the longest time until I begin to squirm from the intensity of his stare. Finally, he asks, “How did I abuse your trust?”

  “Why does it matter?” I huff. “It’s not as if you really care, so why bother pretending?

  “What makes you think I’m pretending?”

  Looking into his eyes, he’s nothing but deceptively cool. It makes me furious. Is he really that good of an actor?

  Having had enough, I push him away, climbing down from the table and moving toward the door with determined strides. I expect him to chase after me, but Rebel surprises me by standing his ground.

  With my hand on the doorknob, I pause. I won’t look at him when I say this, because it still stings to think about it, and I don’t trust myself, but I want him to hear the finality in my voice when I tell him to go to hell.

  With my back facing him, I tell him, “I’ve spent the last year trying to be whatever you wanted me to be, and, for the most part, I was happy with our arrangement. But a person can only handle so much before they break, Rebel, and I’ll be damned if I do that for you.”

  Yanking the door open, I break into a near-sprint. I can’t reach the lobby fast enough, and when I burst out onto the sidewalk, I can’t catch my breath. Imagining Rebel hot on my heels, I don’t allow myself the time to linger. Without looking back, I jump into the first cab I see and head for home.

  ***

  I’m eating an enchilada microwave meal when the first of the calls start rolling in. The ball of dread that forms in the pit of my stomach tells me who’s on the other end, so I ignore it. My sanity is all I have right now, and it’s balancing precariously on the edge.

  I don’t have to guess to know how Rebel got my new number. I’m sure he has access to all the files at Donnelly and Townsend.

  Silencing my phone, I settle in for a night of mindless programming. I don’t want to think about today and what it means for tomorrow. I know I’ve made a mistake. It was a huge error in judgment to seek a job under the same roof as Rebel. It was an even bigger error in judgment to assume that I’d be able to avoid running into him, but now, without my gig at Mirage, I need the job. Since bills refuse to pay themselves, I can’t just quit without something else already lined up.

  I never should hav
e listened to Annie. She’s just too go-get-‘em for me. I’m more of an avoid-and-run-away kind of person, preferring the path of least resistance. But I do like the job. From what little I did on the first day, it’s definitely something I can picture myself doing over the long-term. But not with Rebel and Florence in company. I can’t stand knowing the two of them have been together and, with Jack retiring soon, will continue being together. They’re probably sitting up in their office laughing at me and my stupidity right now.

  I feel myself getting angry, and I know that I can’t continue this line of thinking or I’ll drive myself crazy thinking about all the possibilities and positions Rebel probably has Florence in right now. I won’t lie. Part of the reason I refuse to pick up my phone is because I’m afraid of what I might find.

  If I answered only to find more pictures of him and Florence together, it’s a real danger that I might turn homicidal.

  When I’ve had my fill of television, I shut everything down in the living room and head to bed. I can’t take another minute of this day and just want it to be over. Depending on how I feel when I wake up, it’s a very real possibility that I will call Jack Donnelly and tell him I changed my mind, regardless of the paycheck.

  I doubt Jack will see merit in my explanation because I won’t have much of one to give. There’s no way I can tell him that the whole reason for me asking for the position in the first place was to exact revenge on one of his most prized employees. When I traveled to Maine with Rebel to visit Jack and his wife, I had a front row seat to their relationship. With several years between them, I can’t say that what they have is father/son, but they do have a mutual respect for each other that borders on friendship.

  Jack is planning to sell his portion of the business to Rebel, and while the conversation that followed led me to believe that the development would send Florence into a rage, I’m beginning to think that’s just not the case.

  She and Rebel are clearly very close. I doubt it very much that she would have a problem with him standing by her side at the head of the table.

  My stomach turns at the thought of the two of them together. They’re going to make one hell of a power couple. Do I really want to put myself in the position of having to witness it firsthand? Do I really want either of them cutting my paychecks?

  As I pull the blankets up to my chin and close my eyes, I realize that I was too impulsive. I should have thought this through more. Whether they’re together or not, Rebel’s made it clear that he doesn’t intend to give up his extracurricular activities. Today he made it abundantly clear that he still considers me one of his side pieces.

  My eyes spring open as something occurs to me.

  Rebel may not be opposed to cheating, but I doubt Florence would agree. What would she do if she found out that Rebel was still pursuing me?

  I feel my mouth curve into a devious grin. I think Annie may have been right after all. With my body and Rebel’s sex drive, I might be able to spin this my way and take them both down doing what I do best: taking off my clothes.

  Five

  I’m a mass of nerves when I arrive at work. Despite having decided that I’m going to use my feminine wiles to trick Rebel, I’ve taken every precaution necessary to hide in plain sight. I blended with the foot traffic in the lobby, boarded a crowded elevator, and as soon as I got into the office, I all but glued myself to my chair.

  I don’t know what part of the building Rebel works in nor do I care. I’m just hoping that he won’t find a need to come visit my department.

  I’m trying out different fill colors for the design I started yesterday when Darren appears standing over my desk. From the smile he wears, I get the feeling he’s been standing there a while. “Hey, you. What’s up?”

  His brown brows lift with humor. “What’s up? It’s time for lunch, you workhorse.”

  “Already?” I glance down at the tiny clock display on my computer and, sure enough, it’s well after twelve. When I look around the rest of the room, I find that all of my coworkers have already left. I can’t believe I didn’t notice them leave. “Wow, I must really be out of it today.”

  “Or really into whatever you’re working on.”

  I nod because that’s only partly true. Saving my work, I put the computer on standby mode and retrieve my purse from the peg on the wall behind me. “Where are we off to today?”

  “Well,” Darren says as he follows me out. “We can go for Mediterranean again, or I can introduce you to this little Mexican cantina that opened last weekend. I haven’t eaten there yet, but I’ve been hearing nothing but good things.”

  “Then the cantina it is.”

  Nerves shoot through me as we stand waiting for the elevator to arrive, and I know by the way Darren keeps slanting me looks that he knows it, too. I hate that he can read me so well. It’s going to make it impossible to slip anything by him. And, wow, doesn’t that make me nostalgic. I just realized that Darren is the male version of Annie.

  “So,” Darren says, rocking back on his heels. “Mr. Scott, huh?”

  Shaking my head emphatically, I tell him, “That topic is off limits. I plead the fifth.”

  Cracking an amused smile, Darren stares up at the descending numbers on the lighted panel on the wall. “You know that’s as good as pleading guilty. So, are you two sleeping together or what?”

  “Does the fifth meaning nothing to you?” I pretend as though I am shocked and appalled but really, I am desperately trying to preserve some sliver of privacy here. If word got out that I had anything other than a professional working relationship with Rebel, it could rupture any plan I might make before I get the chance to implement it.

  “I never had much respect for the law,” Darren states. “It’s a good thing juvenile records are sealed when you turn eighteen or I’d never have gotten this job. So,” he says again, turning his head to look at me. “Are you or aren’t you having sex?”

  I glance around making sure no one else is nearby. “That’s really none of your business,” I tell him, somewhat apologetically. “I’ll just say that we know each other and leave it at that.”

  “It looked like a lot more than that yesterday. Girl, I thought he was going to tear your arm out of the socket, he was pulling you so hard.”

  “Then why didn’t you call security and help me?”

  “Oh come on. Do you know who we’re talking about here?” Darren complains. “I had to assess the situation from an objective standpoint and decide whether or not you were in imminent danger and if it was worth losing my job. If I ended up in the unemployment line because I got the boss in trouble over what turned out to be a lover’s quarrel, I’d be looking for a new boyfriend and place to live.”

  I figured it was something along those lines. Darren and I have only known each other for twenty-four hours, so I can’t expect him to put his job on the line for me. Besides, I think I handled myself about as well as could be expected, once I got my wits about me.

  “Just promise me that if anything like that happens again, you come up with a really good excuse to rescue me, okay?”

  “Fine, okay,” Darren says, raising his hands up in front of him. “If I ever see you and Mr. Scott together again, I’ll tell him that your dog died.”

  “I don’t have a dog.”

  “Fine, then I’ll tell him you have period cramps, and I’m taking you home.”

  “What? No! That’s not what I—”

  The doors finally slide open and my words die on my lips. There, standing like a Brooks Brothers model, is Rebel wearing a smile made of pure sin. I know immediately that he hasn’t taken seriously what I said to him yesterday. He’s just as focused on me as he ever was.

  “Oh,” I hear Darren say under his breath as Rebel is revealed to him. He’s just as stunned by his chiseled good looks as I am, so I almost can’t blame him for embarrassing the hell out of me. “She has cramps,” he blurts out.

  Eyes widening, Darren looks down at me and mouths “Sorry” as w
e walk inside. I glare at him and then fasten my gaze to the floor to avoid Rebel’s. I can feel him staring at me, but I refuse to acknowledge him. It’s not part of the plan, but it’s definitely working in my favor. Ignoring Rebel is making him agitated. From the corner of my eye, I can see his body is turned toward mine, and he keeps shifting his stance like he’s growing impatient.

  I almost smile, realizing how much it’s getting to him. If Darren wasn’t here right now, he’d be demanding I look at him or pinning me against a wall to try and get through to me. I’m feeling pretty damn good about how it’s all working out when Rebel cuts through the silence.

  I should have known he’d find an opening.

  “Are you feeling sick today?”

  Forcing myself to look up at him, I swallow tightly. It’s plain in his eyes that Rebel knows it’s a lie. I’m not sick, but in order to not get Darren into trouble, I have to maintain it. “It’s just cramps,” I reiterate.

  “I’m taking her home,” Darren volunteers with a nervous smile. I bet he’s wishing he’d never opened his big mouth. Still, I love him for trying.

  Rebel’s eyes fix on Darren. It’s the same assessing look he used on him last time, only now I can see the wheels turning in a different way. Immediately, I don’t like it.

  “According to her records,” Rebel says, his eyes darting to me and confirming my suspicions that he has, indeed, accessed my personal records, “Miss Hart lives a considerable distance from here. You’ll easily miss your lunch,” he informs Darren. “That’s your choice, of course, but I was just heading out for a meeting, and I happen to be heading that way. I can take you home if you’d like, Miss Hart.”

  My mouth falls slack as I stare back at him and that hint of a smile teasing at his lips. He knows he’s just backed the two of us into a corner. Not only can Darren not refuse his offer because doing so would reveal the lie but now I have to miss the rest of the day because I’m fake-sick. And Rebel comes out on top, again. Honestly, I’m impressed. If I weren’t so irritated and nail-bitingly worried about how this will all play out, I would give him a round of applause.