Accuse

by Nikki Sex

  Yet, his pull is powered by more than his appearance. It felt so right when we were together yesterday and the day before. The look of reverence in his gaze when I first touched his scars—the hunger and intensity in his eyes. The expression on his face when he took me so hard…

  Sex with him wasn’t simply erotic pleasure. It felt nearly sacred.

  I’ve never met a more lost and lonely man.

  Grant needs me.

  His need is the fuel that fires the molten desire within me. It feeds my heart, my mind and my soul. I need to be needed.

  When we arrive in Dallas, we pick up Grant’s car from long-term airport parking and stop at a baby store on the way to his home. I don’t want to leave Mitten alone in the car. Grant assures me no one will mind, so I put him on my shoulder and take him inside with us.

  They say men buy, but women shop.

  Men are supposed to be goal-oriented. They go in, locate their targeted purchases, pay for them and then go home.

  There’s a theory that back in caveman days, women were interested in everything. That way they learned how to find and gather a variety of food. Men, on the other hand, learned to hunt one animal at a time—thus, their tendency to have one-track minds.

  André is an exception, of course. He loves to shop. Maybe he was a woman in a past life. Sexually, he's all man, but in every other way, André transcends gender.

  But Grant? He’s a clear example of the hunter-caveman mentality. He shops like a hunter, zeroing in on his purchases with efficiency. His confident, direct personality is a compelling aspect of his character that’s a revelation to me.

  He stands at the front desk of ‘Buy, Buy Baby,’ expecting VIP service. “I’m going to need your manager here—right now. Thank you, ma’am,” Grant says loudly. “I’ve got a lot to buy and very limited time.”

  They say that in life, people get what they expect to get. Grant expects good service, and that’s exactly what he gets.

  The sales people initially flinch upon seeing his scars, but they’re respectful and quick to assist him. The store manager and two staff members serve us, but they have a difficult time keeping up with Grant.

  Rose, the store manager, is a capable, middle-aged woman. She shadows Grant—following in his wake, as he strides through the store, pointing to the things he wants. Even while shopping in an area in which he has little or no experience, such as baby strollers and baby car seats, he gets comparison details from the staff and quickly makes decisions.

  He looks at me when encountering tricky items, seeking my approval, I guess. At first, in a soft deep voice, he actually asks. “Is this OK, Renata?”

  “Oh. Sure,” I reply.

  I get a thrill of pleasure every time he says my name, but I don’t know anything more about buying baby stuff than he does.

  As commanding and focused as he is, he’s always aware of my presence. His eyes pause on my face or track along my body a few beats at a time, watching me often. Once he’s assured himself I’m close, safe, or whatever it is he’s checking for… he continues on his mission.

  It’s as if he needs to know where I am.

  Each time our eyes meet, his gaze slams into me, sending shivers down my spine and stopping me in my tracks. It's powerful. He's powerful, as is our connection.

  Wow! I haven't seen this side of Grant before. No constraints. Driven. Focused. He's a man in pursuit of his objectives in an uncompromising, “take no prisoners” manner.

  It reminds me of what he was like when we first met, the moment he quit thinking about it and decided to fuck me. I’d never been fucked so hard or so thoroughly in my life.

  Leveled by his sheer authority and super-hot alpha maleness, Mitten and I meekly trail after him as he gives orders. I put on a good show, but I can’t help but feel intimidated and mousy in front of so many strangers.

  Grant is the exact opposite.

  He storms the place with the strength, confidence and command of a five-star general ordering his troops around without doubt or hesitation. Hell-bent, he’s a “man on a mission,” however, he doesn’t talk down to anyone, nor is he being an entitled asshole.

  Kind and courteous, Grant never once loses his respectful, well-mannered Southern charm. The staff who assist him are enthusiastic, smiling as they follow him around the store. They want to help him, and not only because he’s spending a ton of money.

  “Everyone likes him, don’t they?” I say to my cat, while stroking him. Mitten, content to sit on my shoulder, purrs loudly in my ear.

  I like Grant too, even though my head is spinning; even though I’m dragged along while he makes snap decisions at a mind-boggling pace.

  His assertive male energy is a pleasure to watch. I can’t help but enjoy seeing this side of Grant. Is this the trained military man in action? The no bullshit ‘get it done’ guy?

  Strong and determined, he radiates a powerful, potent force.

  My breath quickens, my knees feel weak and my body heats, inside and out. Hot damn, his dominance is incredibly sexy. My breasts ache to be touched and my panties are soaked with my arousal. Lust and affection rush through me. I have an overwhelming urge to climb him as though he were a telephone pole.

  When can I get him to share my bed again?

  I hope it’s soon. If not, I might need a 12-step program to deal with my new addiction.

  Watching Grant in action gives me a chance to study him from this fresh perspective. What would it be like if he behaved like this during sex? What if he spent ages enjoying himself throughout foreplay, knowing exactly what he wanted? Taking what he needed?

  Licking my lips, I’m filled with desire at the thought of it.

  I shut my eyes momentarily with the strong, visceral memory. He took what he needed the day before yesterday, his hard body on top of mine, mindlessly pounding himself inside of me.

  Simple and basic, it had been the hottest sex ever.

  “We’ll take that one,” Grant says confidently to the manager, pointing to a stroller.

  “Yes sir, good choice,” she says, hanging on his every word.

  Dark brown hair frames his beautiful face, while his long locks hide some of his scars. Man, how I’d love to run my hands through his glossy hair again. I’m in a constant state of arousal just watching him.

  What is this crazy pull, this strong attraction to him?

  It’s not simply lust.

  In this moment, Grant is in complete control, yet I’ve seen him shattered by guilt and despair. I’ve felt the anguish in his blue-grey eyes. He hides it from the world, but inside he’s vulnerable, lost and uncertain.

  Maybe I’m drawn to him because he’s broken.

  Grant needs me. I long to help him.

  Always courteous, Grant easily gets his way. I adore the way he strides down the aisles with grace and purpose, as if he owns the place.

  What if he treated me that way?

  What if he behaved as though he owned and possessed me?

  Visions of our passionate time together flood my mind. My nipples harden and my chest, neck and face heat. I close my eyes for a moment, remembering how he filled and stretched me. How satisfying it was to feel the solid length of his erection—every rigid inch of him deep inside of me—his powerful body pressing against mine.

  “Can I help you?”

  Caught in my erotic reverie, I spin around to face the young saleswoman, feeling my cheeks heat. “Um… No thank you. I’m with him,” I say, pointing to Grant.

  “OK, then,” she says with a bright smile, a nod, and an assessing stare at Grant. I can tell, scars or not, she thinks he’s a hottie too.

  Grant strides toward me with a pleased grin. “I think we’re done here,” he says. To my complete surprise, he places his hand on the small of my back, and guides me to the checkout area.

  Jesus, I feel his heated palm like a brand. I shut my eyes for a moment, instantly imagining that big hand of his between my legs.

  I’m so bad!

&n
bsp; My face flushes, not with embarrassment—with desire. Thankfully, it takes a couple of minutes to walk there and I get my control back before I arrive.

  “Well I’ll be! I just can’t get over that cat of yours,” the cheerful, auburn-haired cashier says in her broad Texas accent, as she rings up Grant’s tab. “He’s happy to sit right there on your shoulder. Who’d have thought?”

  “He’s pretty special,” I force myself to say, while scratching Mitten under his chin. A buzz of anxiety is always with me whenever I’m around strangers. Even though some people can’t hide their shock over seeing a cat in the store, no one seems to mind that I’ve brought Mitten shopping.

  I think this is an example of Texas manners. Either that or they were all so blown away by Grant’s tornado-like rush through their store they never thought to question Mitten’s presence.

  “Don’t you worry, now,” the woman assures us. “We’ll have our people deliver these things right on down to y’all today.”

  “We’ll expect them by three, ma’am,” Grant says, his polite comment a command.

  “Yes, sir. They won’t be late.”

  Grant speaks with economy, saying little, but every word he says is important.

  I imagine other things he might say in private, such as “Spread your legs,” or “Let me watch you come, Renata.” Immediately, my pussy clenches, as a spike of sensual awareness shoots straight to my heated core.

  Holy shit, girl! Cool down.

  Chapter 5.

  “I'm not telling you it's going to be easy—I'm telling you it's going to be worth it.”

  ― Art Williams

  ~~~

  Renata Koreman

  Grant and I leave the store, pleased with our purchases for Briley. Crib, blankets, formula, bottles, clothes, toys, bibs—we really have everything we’ll need. Ever the perfect gentleman, he opens the car door for me, as usual.

  “Thanks,” I say.

  “It’s my pleasure.”

  As I take my seat and buckle my seatbelt, I inhale a lungful of new car smell. Grant steps away to talk to someone a few cars down. What’s going on?

  Peeking over and listening carefully, I hear him explaining something to an elderly woman in his low, slow drawl. It sounds as though he’s giving her directions.

  White-haired and heavily wrinkled, wearing dark, horn-rimmed glasses, the woman he’s talking to appears to be about a hundred and fifty years old, if I counted her rings correctly. I shouldn’t make jokes like that, not even in my mind. Sweet thing, once she was young and attractive. Now even her wrinkles have wrinkles.

  Whatever he’s saying, it’s obvious she isn’t getting it. I lean closer, straining to hear what they’re discussing. As far as I can tell, the woman keeps repeating the same questions again and again. From time to time, she seems to drift off, rambling on about… her children?

  She’s nodding and smiling up at Grant like crazy. Grant’s voice is easy-going and kind—he’s doesn’t try to brush her off or rush her in the least. I squint my eyes and see him with a pen and paper. A broad grin instantly splits my face.

  Really? Is he drawing a map for her?

  People often are so frantically absorbed by their own crap that they come across as uncaring. In a rush, they rarely take time to notice others, let alone help them. All too often the elderly become invisible.

  Grant’s so extraordinarily patient! Seeing his respect and consideration for this older woman makes my heart warm.

  “Thank you so much, young man,” I hear her call, as Grant climbs into the driver’s seat next to me. He probably made her day. I know he's made mine.

  Grant offers no information about what he’s just done—I practically have to pry it out of him. Upon questioning, he confirms my observations.

  Yes, the woman was lost. Yes, she needed directions. Yes, she had trouble understanding when he tried to explain the route. No, of course she didn’t annoy him.

  I can’t stop grinning. Apparently, Grant is kind to old women, children, his brother, his brother’s wife and me. André’s rather fond of him and Mitten likes him too.

  What is this guy, a boy scout?

  “Her name is Mary,” he says about the elderly woman he just helped. “She and her husband have been married for fifty-five years. They have twelve grandchildren and two great-grandchildren. Isn’t that something?”

  “It sure is.”

  Grant puts on his seatbelt and presses the ‘engine start’ button on his car. The engine thrums to life with a low, sexy growl. You gotta love these new cars!

  “I think Mary needs to have her eyes checked,” he muses in a slow, pensive drawl. “She didn’t even flinch when she saw my scars.”

  “A woman her age knows what really matters, Grant,” I tell him. “She looks old enough to have gone through the Great Depression and both World Wars!”

  Grant smiles and I laugh.

  “Besides,” I add, “with the long life she’s lived, I’m sure she has plenty of scars of her own. You place too much importance on those scars.”

  Grant says nothing. Is he thinking that over? He turns his head to check for oncoming traffic before backing out of the parking space.

  “Anyway, I think you’re a handsome guy,” I add.

  His lips twitch. “Are you flirting with me?”

  “Maybe.” I flutter my eyelashes in an exaggerated manner.

  He grins.

  “By the way, I thought you were amazing in Buy, Buy, Baby,” I say. “All that confidence and unflagging vigor—whew! I was impressed.”

  He releases the parking brake and turns toward me. Surprise, disbelief and confusion are apparent in his expression. “I was just getting stuff done.” He shrugs. “We need to have this all set up before child welfare arrives with Briley this afternoon.”

  “That’s a big part of your charm. You have no idea of how powerful and in control you were, do you?”

  A frown mars his face. I can see he doesn’t understand. His long, manly fingers curl around the wheel as he pulls out of the parking lot, into traffic. With those long legs and muscular, denim-covered thighs stretching out before him, he’s sexy as hell.

  “The thing is, Grant,” I say, clearing my throat. “What you did in there is an example of the real you. You didn’t have to think about anything, did you?”

  “No.”

  “You just did just as you wanted—what had to be done.”

  “Yes.”

  “You weren't self-conscious, uptight or preoccupied because you were so focused on the task,” I say. “I’ve never seen you like that before. It was seriously sexy.”

  He gives me a doubtful smile. Grant has no idea what I’m talking about.

  “Think about what it would be like to be that confident all the time—if you didn’t second-guess, overthink or doubt yourself. Imagine if you didn’t filter what you wanted to do through a bunch of mental shit. Can you picture how different your life would be?”

  He inhales sharply and sighs. “You’re talking about sex, right?”

  “Absolutely! I’m talking about sex, about touching and openly saying exactly what you feel. We’re discussing the possibility of you, ‘being yourself’ and being who you really are all of the time, but especially when you’re having sex.”

  He snorts and shakes his head. “It’s much harder than you’d think.”

  I raise my eyebrows and give him a teasing, calculating look. “I imagined what it would be like to go to bed with the real you, the confident, go-for-it, and take-what-you-want part of you.”

  He slants me a look, as I pause to let that idea sink in.

  “I also thought about being able to hold you afterwards,” I add. “Cuddling up, my head on your chest—listening to your heartbeat and breathing you in. It would be heaven.”

  Just like that, there’s a jolt of raw sexual energy throbbing between us.

  That’s not all that’s throbbing, there’s a pulsing ache between my thighs. My breasts feel heavy and tig
ht—every bump in the road makes them tingle as my nipples rub against the fabric of my bra. I press my legs together to try to assuage my need.

  I can’t stop thinking of the toe-curling, sheet-ripping, screaming hot sex we had.

  I’m drawn to him in every way imaginable. Does he feel the same attraction? I hope so. The man is so damned built and sexy. I can’t help but fantasize about him kissing me, touching me... and especially fucking me.

  Focus on him. Be in the present. Be the counselor. This is not about you.

  But holy hell, I’m only human and right now I’m needy and greedy with lust. My mind keeps skipping backwards, reliving the sensation of having his hard body on top of me, his cock stretching and filing me.

  The mere thought of him makes me burn with desire.

  How soon can I have him deep of inside of me again?

  Grant has spent his life being guarded and closed off. Just now, he’s trying to conceal his lust with an impassive expression on his handsome features. Yet, his lips are parted, his breathing has quickened and the outline of his massive hard-on, trapped inside his Levis, is hard to miss. Of course, I'd be much more apt to miss it if I stopped looking at his groin!

  A streetlight turns red and we stop. Grant meets my gaze for a moment, but quickly looks away.

  “We did the sex part—” he exhales and pauses for a long while.

  “Mmm?” I encourage him.

  I wait patiently.

  And wait.

  And wait.

  Getting someone to speak about uncomfortable subjects requires patience. He’s thinking it over. The light changes to green, and Grant remains silent, continuing to drive for a bit.

  “I don’t like how I feel… after,” he says. “I’d love to be able to hold you…”

  “Yes?” I say, encouraging him to go on.

  Grant says nothing. His back straightens and his muscles tighten as tension begins to coil in his body.

  I don’t want to push him. I could freak Grant out so easily, and that would make our sessions more difficult.

  For one long moment, I remember how painful it was for me those first days when I moved in with the mysterious André Chevalier. I was a timid wreck. Anxious and frightened, André never even made me leave the safety of my room.