by Stella Rhys
Of course, I couldn’t settle my brain for long enough to write a single thing down on paper, so after sitting fruitlessly for an hour, I made a self-diagnosis on what I needed more than anything now, paid the check and headed straight for the place I said I’d never go back to after they fired me, but fuck it, I was never one to hold grudges
And I was in desperate need to talk to my roommate.
It was clearly what the doctor ordered since after just twenty minutes of catching up at the bar, talking in hushed voices about my sexcapades with Iain, and confessing that I was getting stupidly worked up over his lack of a reply to my latest text, I felt miraculously better.
Amid all the emphasis I’d put on being self-sufficient, I’d apparently forgotten how much it helped to simply have a friend sometimes. Someone to talk to—specifically a girlfriend who was great at listening and making me laugh.
Yet another simple pleasure to remind me that I’d missed out on a lot in my twenty-two years.
But I didn’t feel bad about it anymore.
Like I’d said to Iain that first night he spotted me working here, I was doing a good job of making up for lost time. It was a total lie back then, but it definitely wasn’t now, because I was beyond making up for lost time now—in both the social and romantic departments.
And it felt pretty darned good.
“Lil bonus for ya,” Mia smiled, garnishing my flute of champagne with a strawberry. “That’s for engaging in phone sex with a dangerously horny man while on two percent battery. You’ve got some nerve, baby girl, but I like it.”
“Thank you,” I laughed. “So glad I made you proud with my—what did you call it?”
“Vicious cock-teasing.”
“Ah, yes. That,” I snorted as she set a cocktail napkin down in front of me before placing my drink daintily on top.
“Here. I’ll pour myself a bit so we can do a proper toast to your newfound sex life—and stone-cold badassery,” Mia said, pouring an ounce of champagne into a rocks glass and holding it up to me. “Cheers, ya little cocktease.”
I laughed. “Cheers,” I said, clinking my glass against hers before taking a sip of what I realized was my first ever taste of champagne. I quietly delighted in the realization, closing my eyes and savoring the bubbles on my tongue before picking up my pen and adding another line into my journal.
“Let me guess—you’re just scribbling Mrs. Iain Thorn on repeat in that thing,” Mia teased, eyeing me before grabbing a new order ticket from the printer.
“Excuse you. You know that’s not what this thing is for,” I laughed, smoothing an adoring hand over my notebook as I tried to focus on the things I was supposed to write. “Oh!” I snapped my fingers when I thought of one.
Mia called Morgan and quit the day I was fired. I wouldn’t let her and made her call Morgan back. But I appreciated the loyalty.
“For the record, these last two were about you,” I smirked as I scribbled it in.
“What? Thankful that we have opposite work hours so you can scream ‘Mr. Ass’ as loud as you want while being BFF with your vibrator?”
“Actually, no, because I don’t own a vibrator.”
“But the rest of that is true right?”
My nose crinkled as I grinned. “It’s not not true, but for the record, I don’t call him Mr. Ass. That’s weird.”
“Is it? I mean it stands for Mr. Angry Sex in a Suit, and according to what you’ve told me, he is all about that angry sex,” Mia said just as Lana came over and gave a dramatic groan.
“Oh, for the love of God, Mia, don’t encourage the girl,” she said with exasperation, prompting both Mia and me to look at her and speak in unison.
“What?”
Lana heaved a big sigh, rolling her eyes as she leaned against the bar to face me, making sure to look already very tired with me.
“Yeah, Mia told us you’re allegedly banging Mr. Ass because you know him from like, childhood, which does make a lot of sense for why he even wanted to talk to you that night, but just to be real with you,” she gave a big, exaggerated cringe, “I don’t buy it. I just don’t. I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay,” I said, exchanging a humorous look with Mia. And though I intended on leaving the conversation there, it was clear Lana didn’t.
“I mean I get that you’re new in town, but he’s… not a small deal here. You know? He could literally have like, the hottest girls on Instagram, or legit models and actresses, or any of us, so…” She held her hands in the air and shrugged as she trailed off. “This whole thing just sounds like you talking out all your daydreams and like, little girl fantasies. It just doesn’t sound real at all.”
My eyebrows ascended with amusement as I nodded at her assessment, a bit surprised by the passion with which she delivered it. She’d clearly been thinking about it, but considering it was Iain we were talking about, I didn’t really blame her.
Also, I was completely distracted by the new text lighting my screen.
IAIN: What are you doing
There you are, I thought as I bit back the instant grin on my lip.
ME: Catching up with Mia
I sent the text before looking back at Lana.
“Yeah, you know, I agree with you. None of this seems real at all,” I said distractedly, letting Lana scoff “see?” to Mia before grinning smugly and taking off with her drinks to her section.
Mia hit me with a glare as she sauntered off.
“What the shit, Holland? Way to burst my fuck-Lana bubble.”
I laughed as I peered down at my phone.
“I know, but to be fair, these were all my little girl fantasies,” I said. “If you found my old journals, I have literally tons of them filled with all the things he did or said to me that given day. How completely in love I was with him. Teenaged me lived for that man. Which is why it still feels like none of this is real.”
“Yeah, but it is. I mean there’s a small percentage of people who can say this, but you actually got your childhood crush. And you should let me throw that in Lana’s face if I want to.”
“Well, it’s just for a few weeks,” I clarified, warding away the bit of twisting in my stomach by doodling in the corner of my notebook. “And even that’s pending whether or not he’s mad at me for sending him that picture of my boobs.”
“Mad at you? Have you seen your boobs? What man would be mad at you for sending a picture of it?”
I snorted. “It’s just he takes his work very seriously, and I think I might’ve undermined that by deliberately trying to disrupt his focus.”
“Holland,” Mia groaned skyward. “Can you stop being mature about all this and just let me be petty like I want to be?” she asked before going into an only half-joking assertion that men and their penises deserved a little torment sometimes.
And then we talked about her most recent, apparently lackluster date till Lana came back.
“Mia.” She reappeared abruptly at service bar, already tapping her foot. “Can you stop talking to your unemployed friend and make the Manhattans for my table eight, please?”
I had to laugh at the quip.
“For the record, I do have a day job, Lana. At Minx. This was my weekend gig.”
“Mm-hm.” She wore an overly sweet, deliberately fake smile as she skewered the cherries for her drinks. “Whatever you say, honeybunch,” she said in her most condescending singsong. “Considering your other ludicrous claims, I’ve already learned to take anything that comes out of your mouth with a grain of–”
Her sentence dropped off a cliff as her eyes shifted suddenly behind me, and before I could even process what was happening, I felt a chill shudder up my spine.
I paused, my brain already trying to talk me down from what—or who I thought Lana could be staring at. But judging from the pure vindictive joy in Mia’s giant smile as she too stared wide-eyed behind me, my instincts were right.
And when I turned in my seat, I confirmed it.
Iain.
He was a striking force as he strode through the doors, his steely eyes already pinned on me as he loosened his tie. His suit jacket was draped over his arm and the sleeves of his shirt were pushed up, everything in his body language screaming it was a long day at work while everything in his gaze screamed I’m about to bend you the fuck over.
“Holy hell, Mr. Ass indeed,” Mia murmured in an audible daze.
Because it was that palpable.
All his pent-up aggression from the past few days of being taunted and teased. All his deep irritation for the fact that he wasn’t in Cincinnati right now, like he was supposed to be.
I could feel it in the air. See it in his clenched jaw. His predatory stare.
And there goes another pair, I thought, writhing in my seat as I felt myself get astonishingly wet.
Heat flooded between my legs as Iain made his way to me, forcing me to bite my lip in a way I would prefer not to do in public because it so clearly screamed take me. But I couldn’t help it, because I’d seen this man look like he wanted to fuck me before.
But I’d never seen him look like he needed it.
And right now, he did.
Badly.
And if I had any doubt whatsoever, I could hear it in the gravel of his voice when he reached me at the bar, holding his burning stare on me as he slid my backpack off the back of my chair and said, “Ready to go?”
It wasn’t so much a question but a demand, and the fact that it skipped right over the part where I was right about how I could get him to come home made me want to be smug with him. To hit him with a “ha” and a “told you so.”
But we were in public and I could literally actually see how wound up that body of his was under that shirt. His shoulders, his chest—everything about him looked hard as concrete, so instead of being a brat, I simply nodded and said, “Mm-hm.”
Taking my bag, I turned around, shoving my magazines inside, tossing back the rest of my champagne and exchanging omigod eyes with Mia before grabbing my notebook and pen.
“Just, um—let me go to the bathroom real quick and I’ll be ready to go,” I said hastily to Iain, giving him no chance to reply before I rushed off with perhaps a foolish mission, but I needed to do this.
I was normally strict about this ritual, and I had to catch up on it before the week’s memories were drowned out by new ones, because with Iain, I knew another tidal wave was coming.
So as soon as I got into the bathroom, I set my notebook onto the marble surface next to the sink, hunched over as I scribbled everything I could think of onto the pages—in far less detail than I usually did, but this was all I had time for right now, and I couldn’t even care about the weird look I got from the nosy lady washing her hands next to me. Although I did use my right hand like a shield to cover what I was quickly scribbling down till she dried her hands and left.
Sweet potato fries
When he kissed me back
The protective feeling
In whatever way I could, I was just getting them all down. But in the middle of my next sentence, I was interrupted by a strange sound.
The door locking.
Bent over the sink, I froze, realizing that the nosy woman was gone, but I wasn’t alone, and considering the instant chill up my spine, I didn’t need to look to know who it was behind me.
Still, I tried.
But I caught barely his shirt in the reflection before he caught the nape of my neck and forced me back down.
With a yelp, I clattered back onto my elbows, my pen rolling away as I laid my palms flat on the cold marble. My heart hammered against it as I felt Iain circle his arm around my body, hastily undoing my button and zipper before yanking my denim shorts and panties just halfway down my thighs, keeping me tightly confined in their restraints.
The cold air had barely hit me before he spanked my ass.
Hard.
With a gasp, my eyes shot open, wide and watering as I stared at my parted lips in the reflection of the mirror. It was only inches from my face, and I watched my breath fog it up as I panted, waiting. Unblinking. My every sense was on high alert as I anticipated another brutal spank from Iain.
But I didn’t get it.
Instead, I got the sound of his belt buckle jangling.
Oh God. “Iain,” I breathed out when I felt the heat of his bare erection freeing behind me, inches from my naked pussy. Holding my breath, I flexed onto my toes, mouth parting wide as I felt the heat of his silky tip nudging against my already soaking wet opening. I held my breath, heart pounding as I waited to feel him tease me skin to skin.
But I got none of that before he shoved roughly inside me, immediately filling me to the hilt.
My hand slapped the mirror as a sharp cry caught in my throat. And with my palm pulsing against the glass, my mouth hung wide open, no sound of any kind coming out as Iain pinned my chest to marble, growling like an animal under his breath within his first few thrusts inside me.
They were measured but powerful, and so angry that they knocked out the breath I had held in my throat, forcing a moan to expel from my lips. But with that ragged sound, I was breathing again, fighting against his grip, wrestling under him as I tried desperately to stand up—to look in the mirror and see the face that went with those sounds of completely unrestrained pleasure panting from his mouth, because he was normally so managed, so controlled, and dammit, I’d earned those sounds.
But the effort was useless because he dominated me with ease, holding me down and fucking me as furiously as I knew he wanted to last night, pumping inside me till I stopped caring about anything but taking the pleasure.
It just felt so good.
And even better when he finally let out a full groan before growling in my ear.
“You have no idea,” he hissed, “how fucking ready I was to fly home last night.” His breathing was harsh, heavy, his murmurs slicing through the air. “To wait for you in your apartment, Holland,” his pace quickened inside me, “and fuck this pussy as soon as you walked into the door.”
I moaned through a wicked, open-mouthed smile, making him hiss as I told him that I would’ve been ready.
And within another few strokes, the room overflowed with our sounds.
His pleasure. My wetness. The rhythmic slapping of our skin on skin. It was like a chorus of filth as the air grew hot and thick, charged by our gasps and grunts and the constant jangling of his belt as he pounded into me without mercy.
I was weak by the time he reached around and found my clit, his fingers giving barely three strokes before my muscles were clenching helplessly around his shaft.
“Does that feel good?” Iain’s gruff voice was in my ear as he jerked me upright, his grip on my jaw. Arching my body taut against his chest, he ruthlessly fingered and fucked me, till I swore I had more than one orgasm barreling down my spine. All I could do was chant yes on repeat as he murmured in my ear, asking if I was going to come for him.
I was so ready to. I could’ve done it already. But with a little shift, I held off, because I could feel him getting close, his body stiffening behind me and his cock swelling so much harder inside me. His thrusts were short, harsh now, and I knew it was because he was waiting for me, refusing to finish till I did.
So I gave him a breathy push.
“Give me your cum, Iain, I want to feel it inside me.”
At the sound of those words, he hissed fuck, his hips flexing tightly. And with a final jerk, he groaned into my neck, emptying himself in long, hot spurts inside me as I came all over his cock.
I gasped at the overflow of sensation. The flood of heat spreading through me like wildfire. Falling onto my hands on the table, I felt Iain’s chest collapse on my back, and for the next fifteen seconds, we panted for breath, his face still buried in my neck and his cock still twitching inside me.
“Fuck, baby,” he growled, the satisfaction in his voice tugging at the corners of my lips, making me roll my head back onto his shoulder.
And when
I opened my eyes, our heavy-lidded stares met in the mirror, staying locked there for an entire silent conversation, in such pure awe that I wondered if this moment was real.
I genuinely had no clue anything in the world could be this good. But now that I knew what it was like to feel this alive, there was only one other thing I knew for sure.
That I was never ever going back.
21
IAIN
The attempt at my usual this morning had failed.
Miserably.
I’d woken up at five, made my coffee and responded to pertinent emails, as was routine.
But all routine ended there.
Had it not, I’d have gone for my usual run along the Hudson, played a client’s podcast, and hit the High Line before running back to complete my five miles. I’d have gone straight home for a shower, gotten dressed then headed to the office.
That was what a regular morning would’ve looked like.
Of course, this wasn’t that.
I’d woken up a madman this morning, my muscles still buzzing like they had in Boston, and my blood still thrumming in my veins.
It was like whatever rush had started then had yet to die down. I was still reliving the way Holland had tormented and owned me for forty-eight hours. Still reliving how fucking good she felt last night.
Kissing me like a wild animal. Milking my cock and begging for my cum.
The night’s adrenaline was coursing through my veins by the time I woke up this morning, and I knew the usual run wasn’t going to do jack shit, which was why I was now here—panting and jabbing, my pulse beating in my ears till a confused voice pierced through my consciousness.
“Iain?”
Stopping the heavy bag with my gloved hands, I looked over to see Evie Maddox in an Empires championship T-shirt and sweats, holding Kai, who was wearing basically a matching outfit. Her eyebrows were arched as she poked her head into the boxing studio of the gym.
In our building.
Because I lived in the same damned building as Drew.
We shared the same real estate agent in our mutual friend, Lukas, and since the day Drew moved in, it’d managed to be more of a blessing than a curse—mostly because the neighbor situation was great for catching Drew during his wild years in his never-ending lies. Lies about coming home by a certain hour, and definitely not bringing back a pack of strange girls he met at the club so he could party with them for all to hear on his balcony till 6AM.
