by R. K. Lilley
She didn't even hesitate, obeying me automatically. So fucking perfect, as though I've dreamed her up.
She tried to fit both hands into my shirt, and I tugged one out, bringing it to my mouth for a soft kiss. I put that hand on my shoulder while she tortured me with the hand in my shirt, stroking my stomach with a firm touch. I wanted that touch on my cock so badly that my eyes clenched shut with the need.
As though she'd read my mind, her hand wandered down, gripping my erection with a firm hand. So fucking perfect for me that she can read my mind, I thought, even as I groaned, wrenching her hand away.
I grinned at her, thinking that I was already far too fond of her. I'm keeping this one, I thought, even knowing how insane that was.
"Not here. Not yet," I told her. "The first time I want you in my bed." Need you in my bed.
Taking a step back took every ounce of control that I possessed. I buttoned and straightened my clothing, watching her beautiful face watching my hands.
Determined as ever, I pulled my phone out. "Give me your number." It was a command.
She shook her head, infuriating me. "No," she said firmly.
I couldn't believe her gall. How could she deny me, even as every inch of her body submitted? My mouth twisted in amusement. I rejected her denial completely. This was happening. Her submission had revealed so much more to me than her words ever could. She had more self-control than I did, but it couldn't be limitless. I would break her down.
She studied my crooked smile, glaring. She backed away until she hit the counter. "Not interested," she stated.
I will count down the hours until I can put her over my knee, I thought with relish. A corner of my mouth kicked up involuntarily. Torturous as it was, I was going to enjoy every second of this pursuit.
I put my hands in my pockets, mostly to keep from touching her. I leaned against the counter beside her.
"How about coffee?" I asked, suddenly amused at the entire situation. Images of her sipping a cup of coffee while I licked her pussy flashed through my mind. "Is that neutral enough? Give me your number, and we'll go for some coffee."
She shook her head, not even hesitating. "No, thank you." She waved a hand. "I don't do this sort of thing. I'm just not interested."
I had to smile at her blatant lie. You didn't melt under a man's touch when you weren't interested. I didn't entertain the idea for even a second. I watched her ample chest rise and fall, her nipples visibly hard. She glanced down as though her own chest was disappointing her.
"I will put you over my knee every time you lie to me, Bianca," I told her quietly, determined to be very clear about my intentions.
Her face went a little slack, and I almost lost it. I had to wage another short inner battle for control. It didn't help that she trembled where she stood, visibly affected. "See. I'm not into any of that stuff, so we are clearly not compatible."
Even as her obvious lie infuriated me, her self-control impressed me.
I ran a finger down my tie, my eyes on her own indecent one. That little fucking tie was sinful, sitting right between her perfectly rounded tits.
"I'm not sure if that one was a lie, or if you just don't know how pleasurable 'that stuff' can be. Or how well suited you are to it. I can show you. I would love to show you." My thoughts went to dark, uncivilized places. "When I'm done with you, I'll know your body better than you do, and you will be begging me for it. Every inch of your body is submitting to me even as you're turning me down. Can you honestly tell me that the thought of submitting to me in bed doesn't make you wet?"
She shifted on her feet, unable to hide her reaction to my words. Good, I thought. This needs to affect her like it does me.
She studied my face, as though deciding if I was serious. I grinned. "I meant what I said about the spanking, Bianca. And the submission. You're going to learn very quickly that I always mean what I say."
"Please leave my galley, Mr. Cavendish. I won't change my mind," she had the gall to say.
She'll pay for that, I thought. She would soon learn not to give me orders, especially while calling me that.
I pulled out my wallet, taking out a business card. I touched it to her lovely cheek, running it lightly down to her chin, and then her neck. She shivered as I reached her collarbone, and my cock ached. I was going to spend days buried in her cunt. She'll be too sore to even leave my bed after I break her in. And that will just be the start of it . . .
I dragged the card over her breast, slipping it into the pocket right over her nipple. Just touching the card to that hardened crest had my body thrumming with a nearly uncontrollable need.
"The number on the back is my cell," I told her, trying my hardest to sound civilized. "I would love to hear from you. Anytime, night or day."
I tore myself away with reluctance, returning to my seat.
I don't know how long I sat in my seat, tense with desire and fighting not to go back into that galley to change her mind. I only stirred as Stephan appeared, walking slowly towards the front of the plane, solicitously meeting my eyes to see if I needed anything.
I promptly waved him over, sitting up from my slouch.
He had no qualms about occupying the seat next to me. He gave me a friendly grin, brows raised.
"Bianca told me that you were best friends. Purely platonic," I told him bluntly, studying him.
He blinked, looking surprised. He studied me right back. "You're interested in her," he said in such a way that made me think he had this conversation often.
I nodded, deciding to go for broke. "Very interested. You're close?"
He looked around, as though he were about to make a confession. "She told you we were platonic?" he asked carefully.
I tensed, but nodded.
He sighed. "That's unusual for her." He chewed his lip. "I'm gay, and she and I are closer than family, but I'm surprised she told you that we were platonic."
I arched a brow at him, waiting for him to explain the meaning of that riddle.
He shrugged. "Normally, she puts guys off by telling them I'm her boyfriend. She must be at least a little bit interested in you."
I gave him a wry smile, relieved at what he'd revealed. "Well, I'm more than a little interested in her. Do you guys have plans while you're in the city tomorrow?" I wasn't going to admit that she'd shot me down—hadn't even given me her number.
He glanced around again, chewing his lip, as though afraid we'd be overheard. "We'll likely be going out to a bar tomorrow night. Just hanging out."
I smiled my most charming smile for him. "I think your best friend is lovely, and I would really enjoy seeing her again. Would you mind giving me the name of the bar?"
He stared at me for a long time, looking torn. "We're just hanging out, so I'm sure it would be fine if you wanted to stop by to say hi."
I nodded, schooling my face into a bland smile. "Sounds great."
"We'll be hanging out at O'Malley's Irish Pub, on the corner by our hotel."
"I know where that is," I assured him. I'd gotten the location of the crew hotel when I'd gotten Bianca's schedule.
"It's karaoke night, so it might be kind of loud."
"That's fine," I assured him, already making plans to remedy the problem of the too-public venue. "Thanks for letting me know. I owe you."
He shrugged. "It'll be fun. The more the merrier."
"I look forward to it," I told him. It was a vast understatement.
KARAOKE
JAMES
My heart started pumping hard as I spotted the back of her head. I'd pulled a ridiculous amount of strings just to get a chance to talk to her, and I knew she wouldn't even be happy to see me. Still, I didn't think for a second that it wouldn't be worth it. I hadn't felt so alive since I could remember. I also couldn't remember a time when I'd felt this level of anticipation. I couldn't think about anything but her. What was it about her? She was beautiful, sure, and her body was fucking hot, but it wasn't as though I hadn't had my share of that.
<
br /> Her reaction to me, I thought. She'd said that she wasn't into the lifestyle, but I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was wrong about that. She might not have tried it, but I'd never seen a more perfect sub in my life.
The chemistry . . . We would be perfect together, I was certain. That must be it. And it was that. But still . . .it was more. Her eyes, I thought. There's something in those eyes, something that called to me, some kindred spirit that I needed to explore.
I had no doubts that I could seduce her—her reaction was just too volatile to give me any doubts. She worried me though, and my entire body felt drawn tight with tension. She was skittish. If I didn't pursue her relentlessly¸ she would walk away from me and not regret it. I hated that. I wanted to affect more than her body, and that was the strangest thing. I'd never had that urge before, and I barely knew the woman. Still, I felt like I knew her. She was reserved, but I felt like I could read some things about her like a book. Like her eyes. She was young, possibly a little younger than I'd like, but those pale blue eyes of hers were ageless.
I shot a glance at Clark, who was at the door, helping to execute the slow evacuation of the club. He nodded at me, not quite hiding a tiny smirk. I wouldn't have caught it if I didn't know him so well. He thought that these were ridiculous lengths to go through for a woman. I mentally shrugged. The sad part was, I would have done more. Already, my obsession with this woman didn't seem to have a limit. I should have been more troubled by that.
I began to approach her. I had to stop, my fists clenched hard, when I saw a pilot touching her hair. I counted to ten, my vision growing cloudy with a fine red film. Beating a man to a bloody pulp for laying a finger on her would surely scare her off.
I saw her reaction to the man, the slight recoil, but he didn't seem to notice, leaning close to her. I had to take another long pause, repeat another long count, before I resumed my stride towards her.
I rudely moved the pilot out of my way, shouldering in with no apology. I didn't even look at him. I didn't want to see the way he looked at her. I might lose it, then.
I was directly behind her chair as she shook her head, talking to Stephan. "Not like that," she was telling him in an infuriatingly drunken voice. "A different kind of scary. I haven't figured it out. All I know for sure is, I need to stay the hell away from Mr. Beautiful."
Perversely, her words made me hard. I was glad her chair obstructed the room's view of my growing erection.
Stephan spotted me, his eyes widening in recognition. I nodded at him. I liked him, and there was no doubt in my mind that I had to stay on his good side. That would be essential if I wanted to get close to her.
Bianca had been slouching against the bar, but with the look on Stephan's face, she straightened suddenly. "What?" she asked loudly, drunkenly. I hated how drunk she was with a singular passion. "What? Is Mr. Beautiful standing behind me or something?"
Stephan pursed his lips, and she spun to look at me. She gazed at me, looking drunk, and dazed, and too beautiful to keep my hands off of. Fuck. I was in trouble. I hated alcohol, and drunk women were not something that had ever tempted me, but I still wanted her as badly as ever.
"Hello, Mr. Beautiful," she said softly in that slurred voice. The dazed look on her lovely face quickly turned to an accusing one. She spun on Stephan. "Traitor!" she slurred.
Stephan threw his hands up, giving her a completely innocent look. I'd need to watch out for that one, I thought. He was a bit of a hustler. "I didn't give out your number or anything. He asked if we were going out tonight. I just told him where. No harm done."
I looked down at her head, at that smooth, pale golden hair. I had to touch her. I couldn't stop myself for even another second.
I pressed my cheek to her hair, my mouth close to her ear. It was an effort not to shudder at the brief contact. "Mr. Beautiful, huh?" I whispered in her ear. She'd gone stiff. "I'm going to take that as a compliment, though I have to say, it's a new one."
"Hello, Mr. Cavendish," she said stiffly. She didn't turn.
I smiled, loving the sound of that on her lips. Too much for public, in fact. "I told you, call me James," I said quietly into her ear. "Or Mr. Beautiful, if you prefer. You can save Mr. Cavendish for when we're in private."
I felt a fine tremor move through her before she pulled away. I relished her reaction.
I straightened and grinned at Stephan, and he smiled tentatively back. "How's it going?" I asked him.
His smile widened. "Good. I've had a few more than I meant to, but I can't say I care at the moment."
I sighed, looking at Bianca. It was the first time I'd seen her hair down. I found it nearly impossible to keep from touching the soft fall of it. "You aren't the only one," I said wryly.
He grinned. "We've got a great bartender tonight. What can I say?"
We chatted companionably for a few minutes while Bianca ignored us both. He was easy to talk to. I was glad we'd have no trouble getting along, since he and Bianca seemed to be a package deal.
Bianca lurched to her feet suddenly and drunkenly.
"Whoa, careful there, Buttercup," Stephan told her.
I moved closer, wrapping my arm around her waist. "Buttercup?" I asked him, distracted for a moment from the dark mood her condition had put me in.
He gave me a sheepish look. "It's an old nickname, from when we were kids. Bee will have to tell you the story sometime."
"I look forward to it," I said. She swayed a little, and I had to grit my teeth to remain calm. "Does she drink like this often?" I asked him, my tone deliberately bland.
"All the time," she said loudly. I wanted to spank her right there.
"This is the first time she's had a drink since the month she turned twenty-one," Stephan corrected. "At least two years ago."
I felt a wave of relief at his words. This wasn't a pattern for her. Good.
I put my mouth to her ear again. "You remember what I told you about lying to me," I warned quietly. "That's two."
"He's a kinky bastard," she said in a whisper, looking at me with very wide eyes.
I bent to make sure she was looking into my eyes and nodded. It was best that she understood that right away.
"I need to go to the bathroom," she announced to the room.
"I'll help you get there, Buttercup," I told her. Strangely, I loved the ridiculous nickname.
Stephan rose as though to help. I waved him off. "I've got her," I told him.
She'd left her phone on top of the bar. She didn't notice as I grabbed it, shoving it in my pocket.
I led her through the room, taking the brunt of her weight as she stumbled along.
"Why are you here?" she asked me.
I gave her the short version. "Well, I came here because I very much want to fuck you until neither of us can walk." It was the most polite way I could word it. "I want you so bad I can't see straight." It was an understatement. "But since that won't be happening now, I'm staying to make sure you make it back to your room in one piece."
"Why won't that be happening now?" she asked me, sounding putout about it.
I had to work to keep a straight face, loving what her statement told me about her willingness.
I raised a brow at her. "I won't touch you while you're impaired. Never. I just don't do that." I wanted to be very clear.
"So you give up?" she challenged.
I kissed the top of her head to hide my grin. "Far from it. I still intend to fuck you senseless. Just not tonight, Buttercup. And I'd appreciate it if you could refrain from ever getting yourself into this condition again." I couldn't keep the irritation out of my voice as I thought about her getting this drunk.
She stopped suddenly, turning into my arms, pressing into me. I sucked in a breath at the feel of her against me. Some graphic pictures of me buried inside of her flashed through my mind. God, I wanted her.
She made a point of meeting my eyes, her lush breasts plastered to my chest. If she weren't so drunk, I'd have given serious though
t to nailing her against the nearest wall. She was just the perfect height for a good wall fuck . . .
"Yes?" I asked her, my tone as hard as my cock.
"My condition isn't your business, James."
I didn't even entertain that idea. It was all my business. "I intend for it to be my business," I said diplomatically.
"You don't want to date me, you said," she told me. She sounded a little wounded over it, which made me mentally flinch. I hadn't handled that delicately enough, hadn't explained that my need to keep my personal life very private was for her benefit. Of course, to tell her that, I would have to explain how infamous I was, which would inevitably lead to her discovery of how promiscuous I'd been. My reputation was beyond tarnished, and I knew instinctively that it wouldn't go over well with her. She would never trust me if she had an inkling of my past. I thought that one was better put off as long as possible. I didn't think it would take much to scare her off at this stage in the game.
I sighed, debating with myself on how to handle her. "It's true," I said. "But I want other things. I at least want the chance to talk to you about what I do want."
"So talk," she told me. I had a very brief but vivid fantasy about spanking her bare ass right there.
"We will talk. When you're sober. And when we have some actual privacy."
She wagged a finger at me, then stood on her tiptoes, speaking directly into my face. "That doesn't sound like talking," she slurred.
I flinched, hating how intoxicated she was.
It was an effort not to follow her into the restroom, her steps were so unsteady.
A cheap looking redhead passed me, giving me a lascivious once over. I ignored her, used to the type.
I made good use of the five minutes she was in there, programming my number into her phone, and then calling myself so I had hers.
I took Bianca's arm the second she staggered out of the restroom.
"Have you ever been so drunk that you can't look yourself in the eyes when you see a mirror? she asked.
