by Cole, Jagger
I nip his lips with my teeth. He hisses and grabs a fistful of my hair. I moan and grip his dress shirt. I rip, hard. The buttons scatter as I tear his shirt open and run my hands over his rock-hard chest. Cormac growls deeply. He shoves my tank top up and then yanks it over my head.
The second I pull away to pull it off, the power shifts. He lunges, rolling us over so that he’s pinning me to the floor. I gasp when I feel something wet and cool. I turn my head and groan. One of the opened cans of paint is knocked over, spilling everywhere.
“Cormac….”
“Fuck it,” he snarls. His mouth presses hard to mine. I moan, and I forget all about the damn paint. I yank at his ruined shirt until he tosses it and his tie away. He shoves his pants and boxers down and kicks them off.
He moves between my thighs and spreads them wide with his hips. I look down and whimper. Lust throbs deep in my core. My eyes center on his thick erection, and I tremble with heat.
I’ve only had a couple of boyfriends. I’m not actually that experienced. But holy shit… he’s huge. But not in a scary way.
It’s in a yes-fucking-please way.
Cormac looms over me, my legs spread wide for him. His throbbing hard cock bobs right above my aching, needy pussy. His eyes lock with mine. He grips the backs of my thighs and pushes them back. He hunches over me like a beast about to claim his mate.
His cock lays thick across my lips. But he doesn’t move to push it into me. I look up, into his eyes and realize he’s hesitating. His face looks lined and strained, like he’s holding back.
“What is it?” I whisper.
Cormac frowns. A growl rumbles low in his chest. “Maybe we shouldn’t…”
I roll my eyes. “Scared?”
Fire surges in his eyes when they snap to mine. I tremble, panting. Goading him is fun. And maybe dangerous. But definitely, definitely thrilling.
“No,” he growls thickly. “Worried.”
“About?”
“You.”
My heart skips. And melts a little. This banter façade between us drops for a second. But then here’s my sarcasm armor coming up again.
“Cormac, I’m not going to fall in love with you,” I snicker. But it’s armor. I’m trying to be funny so that I can ignore how real this feels. Because I have to.
“Well thank God,” he grunts back with a hungry grin. He pushes the swollen head of his cock over my clit. I whimper. “That would be terrible,” he growls dryly.
“Really bad,” I moan. I reach for him. My nails dig into his hips. He growls and leans down to me. His lips press hotly to mine as his big cock head slips down to my entrance. I moan and tremble. He pushes and starts to slide into me.
“Oh fuck!” I gasp. My eyes roll back in pleasure. He’s so damn big. And I mean so big. But I’ve never felt anything like this before. And it feels fucking good.
Cormac groans. He pushes and starts to sink deeper into me, and it just keeps going. He grips my hands with his and pushes them above my head. He pins them there, growling into my lips. I moan and kiss him desperately. I can feel the paint squelching against my back, but I don’t give a shit.
His fingers splay into mine, holding them above my head. His hips push. His fat cock sinks into me, and I cry out loudly with pleasure.
“Christ, Ella…” he groans.
“Too… oh God… too much for you?” I tease, whimpering.
He groans. “Why don’t we find out.”
“I mean, if you need to take a break, we… oh my God….”
He slides out until just his head is inside of me. Then he thrusts right back in. He buries his big dick to the hilt inside of me with one hard thrust. My eyes roll back. Pure pleasure floods through me, taking my breath away.
Okay, this is good. This is really, really fucking good. My fingers curl into his. My hips rise to meet his thrusts. My legs wrap around his hips, urging him on. He slides one hand down to cup my face. He frowns and pulls it away quickly to look at his palm. When he realizes it’s paint, he snarls and just keeps going.
He grips my jaw and rocks his big cock into me. I strain against the hand still pinning my hands above my head. But he doesn’t let go, and I love that he doesn’t. The loss of control sends me reeling. The feel of his power and strength pinning me to the ground as he takes me is overwhelming.
This is like nothing I’ve ever felt before. This is like sex with a Demi-god. Cormac groans and quickens his pace; loosing control even more . His hips thrust into me, burying his fat, swollen cock deeper into me than I’ve ever felt anything. His lips devour mine, and I moan into his mouth.
This is better than amazing. This isn’t just good sex. It’s fucking fantastic sex. This is “ruin me for any other sex ever” kind of sex.
Cormac’s hand slides down my body, smearing green paint as he goes—leaving marks in the shapes of his hands and fingers across my tingling skin. He grips my hip. His hand slides under me to grip my ass tightly. He growls into my mouth and pounds into me hard, like he’s fucking me into the very floor.
Suddenly, he rolls us over. I moan as I find myself on top of him, my legs around his hips and his cock still deep inside of me. My hands smear paint over his chest, his over my ass. He grips me as I start to ride him. He leans up. His lips wrap around one of my nipples. I squeal and bounce harder and faster on his huge erection.
His hands guide my hips. His fat cock surges deep inside of me, filling me to the max. I cry out, moaning until his lips silence mine. I scream into his mouth. I’m going to explode, and he knows it.
“Come,” he snarls into my lips. “Come for me, Ella.”
He thrusts deep. My body contorts and writhes. Suddenly, I’m exploding for him. The orgasm takes my breath away. I can feel myself squeezing him tightly. He groans and throbs so hard inside of me. And then I can feel him explode. His hot cum spills into me. His hands tighten like iron on my hips.
I collapse on his chest, gasping for air. I feel him kiss my hair, and I hold him tighter.
Uh-oh.
We lay in silence for a minute. But it’s comfortable silence. It’s really, really good silence. His hands stroke my skin. Slowly, he rolls us over gently pulls out of me. He gathers me in his arms, pulling me against him again.
“Cormac?”
He aches a brow, grinning at me. “Yeah?”
“I don’t know how to say this but…” I frown. “You’ve got a little…I mean, it’s just a drop of something right….” I wipe my hand over his cheek, leaving a huge streak of green. He grins widely.
“Yeah? Fuck, I was trying to figure out how to be a gentleman about the spot you’ve got right here.”
He cups my right tit. I giggle when the paint squishes over my skin. We both start to laugh and playfully slap each other with paint covered hands. But then suddenly, I’m kissing him.
My pulse surges. My body clenches tight. I didn’t see this coming.
Slowly, I pull back from him. I frown slightly. “Um, so, just so we’re clear…” I chew on my lip. “That was…”
“Relax,” Cormac grunts. He grins a small cocky grin at me. “I’m not going to ask you to marry me now, Ella.”
I grin. “No falling in love with me, remember?”
“Yeah, I’ll try and restrain myself.”
I giggle. But then I chew my lip again. I look up into his eyes. “So, this is…”
“Fun,” he says.
“Right, exactly. Fun. A game, right?”
Cormac’s blue eyes flash. “Yes,” he growls.
“I mean, I’m not really your employee…”
“Right. Exactly.”
“So there’s no problem, right?”
He shrugs. “None that I can see.”
“Good.”
He nods abruptly. “Good.”
I grin. Slowly, I start to lean into him again. But suddenly, we both jolt up. “Was that…?”
We hear the footsteps down the hall again. Cormac scowls. “Fuck. Security.”
We lurch to our feet. Both of us our stifling laughter as we quickly pull on paint covered clothes. My heart is racing. I’m giggling as he yanks me down a hallway to the executive elevator. I gasp when he slams me against the wall next to the doors. His tongue dances with mine. His hands pin my hips to the wall.
I want more, again.
The elevator doors open. Cormac slowly pulls away from my mouth. “Hang a right in the lobby. There’s a side key-pad door. The code is four-four-seven-nine.”
I nod. My pulse is still racing. My body is still throbbing from his touch and aching for more. I almost want to ask him to come with me. But then I want to chastise myself. What? No. Cormac Heath is not my boyfriend. This is not a “thing.” It’s just fun and games. Thinking or wishing for anything more would be insane. Right?
I pull away from him first. Call it self-preservation, I guess. “See you tomorrow?” I say quickly, offhandedly.
Cormac frowns. But then his lips curl into a thin smile. “Tomorrow it is,” he growls.
I step into the elevator. I push the button for the bottom floor. “Okay, night!” I smile as the doors close. It’s only when the elevator starts to move that I let my air out. I sink back against the wall. I’m trembling all over. I feel like I’ve been electrified. Like I’m more alive than I’ve ever been.
I blush. Or maybe this is just a side effect of just having had the best sex of my fucking life. Hands. Fucking. Down.
But it’s just fun. It’s just a fling—a game.
At the end of the day, Cormac Heath is still the devil. He’s still the grumpy, most despised rich prick in New York. And you don’t fall in love with the devil.
You just don’t.
13
Cormac
My pulse is racing. The drink in my hand is cold, the apartment around me dark. My skin buzzes, like it’s been electrified. The feel of her is still in my skin, in my hands. The taste of her is still on my lips and tongue. The memory of her moaning her release for me is the only thing I can think of.
I’m naked, sitting in a chair by the window, looking out at the rain coming down on the city. Behind me, my painted clothes lay in a heap on the floor. My thoughts swirl. My hunger for her surges.
Why the fuck am I here? Or more specifically, why am I here without her? Why am I anywhere without her? How the fuck did I just let her walk out of that office?
I close my eyes and take a slow drink. I’m off the map here. I’m in new territory, for me at least. I’m getting close, and I don’t get close to anyone.
Part of it is Kristen. It’s not like I had my heart torn out—we were casual at best. But it’s the betrayal that’s left a scar. I know how women see me. How Ella looks at me is different than that. But the doubt has been sown.
But it’s more than having been stabbed in the back. It’s that life has taught me that people leave. People are taken from you. I may have it nice now, with my wealth and power. But as I wasn’t born with the silver spoon up my ass, I know that the world is not always a very nice place.
I spent my youth fighting my father, trying to save my mother. It was a war of attrition, but in the end, I beat him. In a sense, at least. I lost both my parents in the same year. But at least that miserable fuck went first, by a handful of months.
Yes, I had a few months with my mother without that asshole’s wrath blotting out her sun. But then she was taken from me to. I know it’s not a blueprint for my whole life, but it left a warning in my heart: people leave. They’re plucked from your grasp. You can spend your life smiling and being all cheery. Or you can spend it clawing and snarling your way to the top. Either way, we all die in the end. Either way, people leave. So for me, the choice was obvious.
And yet, that foundation feels shaken. The tower I’ve built for myself is unsteady. And I know it’s because of Ella, even if I’m not sure how.
My phone buzzes on the table next to me. I glance at it and frown. It’s Alan. I think about ignoring it, but he wouldn’t be calling this late without a reason.
“Talk to me, Alan,” I growl.
“Hey, boss, just wanted to get your okay about this Sisters of Saint Bartholomew check.”
He’s talking about the final contract settlement; the blood money, I can imagine Ella calling it. It’s the fat check that will grant me dominion over the nursing home to move the tenants, close it, and knock it flat for the high-rise that will be taking its place.
But why is Alan calling me about that at ten o’clock at night? I frown. “What about it?” I roll my eyes. “Tell the board that sending fucking nuns to the negation table worked once. I will not be amending the terms any more.”
“No, Mr. Heath, it’s not the amount.”
“Well? What’s the problem?”
“You, uh, you never sent the cashier’s check.”
I frown. “I’m sure I did. Hannah had it certified delivered last week.”
“They sent it back. You never signed it.”
I groan. Christ, talk about looking like a fucking amateur. I’m the largest developer in the fucking city, and I’m not signing my damn checks?
“Are you home? I can send a messenger over right now, Mr. Heath.”
I shake my head. “No, I’ll get to it tomorrow.”
“Mr. Heath, the deadline for contract—”
“I said I’ll get to it tomorrow, Alan.”
“You got it, boss.”
I hang up. I lean back in my chair and scowl. Fuck, what’s happening to me? I’m losing my edge. I mean, it’s not like buying nuns out of their nursing home is an “edge.” But a week ago, I wouldn’t have hesitated. I’d have pulled that trigger.
Now, I don’t even have the gun in my hand. I’d ask why the fuck this is happening to me, but I know.
Ella. Ella is happening to me. And somehow, she might be changing me into a man I’m not so sure I know. The thing is, I might kind of like this new version of me.
But I’m being distracted by her, and I need to focus. I need to put my blinders on. I need to ignore the magnetic pull of her. I need to resist the gnawing hunger I feel whenever I look at her.
What happened tonight was fun. But we’re both adults. And I think we both get that it was… fun. A game. Just two adults, having a good time together. Right? I try to convince myself that it was not in fact the best sex of my life. Hours later, I’m still trying to lie to myself.
But good sex or not, this has to be the end of it. No more games. No more distractions.
My grand conviction lasts pretty much up until the second I step into my offices the next morning and see her. I groan when my eyes land on her. It’s like the universe heard my “no more distractions” bullshit and said, “hold my beer.”
Ella is dressed in a plaid schoolgirl skirt, with black thigh-high tights, black and white Converse sneakers, and a very tight, Killers t-shirt. A growl rumbles in my chest as I stare at her. Every dirty schoolgirl fantasy I’ve ever had comes blasting through my head.
“Morning,” I growl from the doorway to the conference room. Ella glances up. She smiles for half a second. Then she hides it away and shrugs.
“Oh, hey,” she says flippantly. I roll my eyes. I guess we’re playing this stupid game where we pretend we didn’t just fuck like rabbits last night right there on the floor where she’s standing.
But goddamn does she look good. She looks very, very good. She turns her back to me and starts to climb the ladder. Her auburn hair is up, with tendrils of blue falling around the edges of her face. My eyes slide down her back, over the curve of her ass under her skirt. I watch the way her body moves as she climbs the ladder.
Ella coughs, loudly. I frown and drag my eyes up to see she’s looking right at me. “Did you need something?”
Yep. Guess this is the game we’re playing. Part of me is ticked off. But there’s also relief. This is the mantra I told myself last night: no games, no distractions. If she’s on the same page, that should be a good thing.
So why the
hell does it piss me off?
“Nope,” I grunt.
She chews on her lip. “Okay,” she says quietly.
This is how it’s going to be: two sides to her. The sexy temptress at night, and the curt, defiant little brat the next day.
So be it. I frown. “Actually, yes. I’ve got a meeting later, and I’ll need the room.”
She shrugs. “It’s your conference room.”
I frown. “Everything okay?”
Ella glances back from the wall. Her face is totally neutral; very purposefully so. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
My lips thin. “No reason.”
“Cool.”
“Excellent,” I mutter.
Our eyes hold each other’s. Ella opens her soft lips, but then snaps them shut. She blushes.
“Did you need something?” I growl.
Ella’s face blushes deeply. “Uh, nope.”
My jaw ticks. “You sure?”
Her face blooms with even more pink. She swallows and quickly nods. “Yep,” she blurts.
Like I said, so be it. I nod, turn, and storm back to my office.
“Oh, having a little work done to the place?”
Travis is the lead architect of the firm I’m using for this current project involving the neighborhood around the Sisters of Saint Bartholomew nursing home. We’re still months out from breaking ground obviously. But today is about nailing down some key features of what the block will look like after it’s razed to the ground.
“Oh, yeah,” I grunt. Ella is up on her ladder with pencils and some paint. She’s got her headphones on again, her head bopping slightly with a beat.
“A mural.”
“Oh yeah?” Travis sits, his back to Ella and the wall. “What of?”
I glance up at her again. “I have no idea.”
Travis frowns. “Oh. Well, shall we?”
Look, I’m not a monster. Well, not entirely one. I’m not completely soulless, and I’m not looking to put little old grandmothers out on the street. But this is just how business works. Travis unrolls some of his new plans, and we start to pour over some of the details.