Forbidden to Want

by JC Harroway

  I couldn’t even tell you the first name of the clients I spent the night sucking up to, a false grin plastered on my face while they enjoyed the performance from the best box in the house, followed by a VIP backstage experience where they not only met the actors, but also dined with the star of the show at an exclusive restaurant in neighbouring Covent Garden.

  Once upon a time I embraced the lifestyle, wore it like an expensive suit. The excess, the exotic travel, off-the-beaten-track adventures and stuff-of-dreams luxury. Now I can barely muster polite conversation for the wealthiest clients who stay in Faulkner hotels and pay through the nose for my services. Thank fuck Mia was there, smoothing the waters in her relaxed, easy-going way.

  The door opens to reveal a tall, slightly crumpled man in his early thirties, his hair sticking up in places.

  ‘Yes?’ His accent matches Mia’s. Is this the brother she mentioned? They look nothing alike—he’s stocky with a shock of red hair and lacks Mia’s long-limbed grace.

  I stick out my hand. ‘Kit Faulkner. Is Mia home?’ I stretch my mouth into a non-confrontational smile. Manners will expedite what I want.

  Mia.

  Naked.

  Me inside her.

  ‘Just a second.’ He eyes me with suspicion—definitely the brother.

  When she comes to the door, she’s wide-eyed and similarly rumpled, as if they’d been snuggled on the sofa, watching a movie.

  And just like that my entire body lightens a fraction, the muscular knots unravelling. My eyes sweep over her, desperate now to see the whole package after the tantalising glimpse I had in the car. Now that I’ve, once again, pulled my head out of my arse and survived yet another trigger.

  She frowns. ‘It’s midnight.’ She pushes her thick hair back from her make-up-free face and twists it as if she wants to tame the wildness. She’s pretty without make-up.

  My fingers twitch—I hadn’t wanted to rumple the breathtaking vision of her in the car too much, but now I want to see her naked, that dark hair kissing her delicate shoulders, the ends teasing her rosy nipples, the strands falling through my fingers...

  ‘It’s...’ I check the time again ‘...four minutes past.’ I drill my stare into hers so she sees I’m deadly serious. ‘It’s Wednesday.’

  Reality dawns and she flushes the way she did on Monday as she came around my fingers, her golden skin glowing, highlighting the scattered freckles across her bare shoulders.

  At her hesitation, emotion forces steel into my tone. ‘Have you changed your mind? It’s fine if you have—I’ll just see you at Bounty Events tomorrow.’ Part of me wants her to tell me to fuck off. I’m an unreasonable bastard. No one sane arrives on someone’s doorstep after midnight for sex. At least not without a booty call first.

  She looks over her shoulder down the darkened hallway. ‘I... I’m staying with my brother.’

  I shake my head, showing her I don’t want to come in. I have a hotel room near by, all ready to go. I indicate my Aston at the kerb. ‘Come with me.’ I hold my breath, torn between needing her silent acceptance and expecting her refusal.

  Withdrawing without explanation on Monday has surely earned me the door slammed in my face. Perhaps that’s the real reason she focussed on the client and barely spoke to me, while I’d reeled from our brief sexual encounter, my gut churning over the looming anniversary.

  We both know my body wanted to finish things, but my head got in my way. I won’t make the same mistake tonight. Tonight she’s mine—if she still wants the same thing. A new level of gut convulsions adds to my restlessness while she wavers. I’m acting unhinged. But all I want is what she said she wanted two days ago.

  Just sex.

  She shuffles her feet, reason warring with desire in her eyes. Then she nods. ‘I haven’t changed my mind. Give me one minute.’

  I saunter back to my car, perching myself on the warm bonnet while I wait, some of the tension leaving me now I know she’s still on board. It’s good to feel something, even uncertainty, after the weeks of numbness leading to yesterday, a day I should celebrate, but which I only dread. Because nothing changes as I relive one of the worst days of my life—like Groundhog Day. Every memory identical, every emotion replayed as if I’m an actor, performing take after take...

  I focus on tonight, this thing with Mia, just sex. Something the practical Ms Abbott pointed out that we can get over and done with and move on from. Something eminently controllable. Something that provides me with more than the physical high.

  For a few blissful minutes I forget. Forget Laura’s pale face as she lay dying in my arms, forget the skin-flaying helplessness of not being able to do anything to save her, forget how I wish it had been me to die in the middle of nowhere—technically she made it to the nearest hospital, but she never regained consciousness and I was told her brain likely died on the side of that volcano in Indonesia.

  Mia is back, saving me from another trip down Self-Loathing Alley. She’s thrown on a puffer-style jacket and carries a small bag. I don’t want to think about what’s inside—it looks too small for a change of clothes but could potentially carry a toothbrush.

  I open the door for her, my muscles welcoming the return to action. I slip behind the wheel and pull out into the quiet residential street.

  ‘Where are we going?’ Her voice is steady. No nerves?

  Good. I’m too impatient for distractions, as impatient as Mia was in the car to the theatre. ‘A hotel.’

  She nods her consent. ‘One of yours?’

  A snort. ‘No. But I’ve never been there before, if that’s what’s bothering you.’ I change the subject. ‘I interrupted your evening.’ I’m sorry, but I’m too strung-out to vocalise more than a few words.

  She shrugs. ‘No problem, we were just done watching a movie.’

  I nod, adding another twist to my intestines as I picture the scene of quiet domestic normality. ‘Did you enjoy the play?’

  She laughs, the throaty sound so unexpected and sultry, I almost rear-end the car in front. ‘I did actually. I wasn’t expecting to, but it was...fun.’

  ‘Adrenaline-level fun?’

  Another laugh. ‘Not quite that good.’

  ‘So what qualifies for that level for you?’ I catch sight of her fidgeting in my peripheral vision and grip the wheel tighter to stop myself reaching out to still those fingers. After our consent talk, I’m not touching her until she asks me to.

  ‘Oh, you know, anything outdoorsy, adventurous—kayaking, mountain biking, kite surfing. And sex, of course.’ She shifts in the seat, turning her body to face mine. ‘So, why Wednesday?’ Her voice holds an edge, but her cool stare settles on me as if she won’t take my bullshit evasion this time.

  Of course she wouldn’t simply accept my non-explanation. She’s too smart, too forthright. Qualities I admire. I swallow, my throat tight. My first instinct is to lie. To avoid the emotional black hole. But what difference does it make? We’re just fucking. As she said—get it over with and move on. And she’ll soon be leaving London. It’s almost too perfect a situation, and perhaps the reason I’m so impatient.

  Mia is different to any woman I’ve ever met, as if normal rules don’t apply. She’s unapologetically herself. She propositioned me for sex. And she seems more interested in the work she’s here to do than flattering me or trying to burrow under my guard. I can’t figure her out. Perhaps that’s what has me crawling out of my skin tonight...

  ‘Yesterday was my wedding anniversary.’ I force the words out, knowing they’ll taste foul but hoping they’ll draw a line under this conversation. A sick slug of euphoria warms my ice-cold blood at the ensuing silence, an awkward one. And one I usually relish. Nothing makes people run quicker than the fear of not knowing what to say.

  ‘Ah...’ She nods. ‘Yes, I can see why you’d want to avoid that day.’

  I wait for platitudes
, cloying concern, even embarrassment. But Mia simply stares out of the window. Direct. Different. No bullshit.

  In case curiosity gets the better of her, I steer us back to the transactional nature of this agreement, one that doesn’t involve talking about my tattered psyche and shit personal life. ‘Are you on birth control?’

  She nods, eyeing me with her huge dark eyes, which are illuminated by the dash of my car, like I’m the wolf and she’s Little Red Riding Hood. ‘But I want to use condoms as well.’

  ‘Me too.’ Good, we’re both into safe sex. And we’re here.

  I pull into the hotel’s underground garage, park up and open her door. My manners give her pause—she glances at me like I’ve sprouted a second head. I can’t blame her—I have been a little hit and miss. Time to pull my head out of my arse.

  I put my hand in the small of her back, ignoring the unconscious jolt of surprise that jerks her body, and guide her to the lift. Perhaps she is nervous. Perhaps she’s changed her mind and no longer wants anything to do with twisted, contradictory Kit Faulkner. Can’t say I blame her—the guy pisses me off most days.

  Once inside, with the doors closed, I resist the testosterone pounding through my body, resist the urge to touch her more than I already have and instead offer some reassurance. ‘I know we made an...agreement, but I’m not a dickhead, despite turning up on your brother’s doorstep and despite my behaviour Monday.’

  She nods.

  ‘I laid down some rules, but they are about us both having a good time—if there’s something you don’t like, or you don’t want to do, just say and we’ll stop. Okay?’ I’m not into major kink, I just want sex the way I want it.

  The one thing I can control.

  And I want Mia.

  ‘I will.’ She lifts her chin, that flash of determination returning to her eyes, and I’m reminded not only does Mia consider me a challenge, but also that Little Red Riding Hood eventually triumphs over the wolf.

  She’s in the driving seat here. She suggested this mutually satisfying arrangement before I had time to suggest it first. I’d have at least bought her a glass of wine, dinner, spent the evening showing her my intentions before offering her a nightcap at a conveniently placed hotel on the way home.

  My stare falls to her full mouth and sweeps lower to her pale neck. My fingers flex, impatient to have her naked. The glimpses of her body that the sexy dress revealed and the one spectacular breast I’d sampled in the car, the memory of the feel of her softness on my fingers left me hollow, unfulfilled. I want more of Mia. Everything she has to give me, and even then I’ll wring a little more from her compliant body.

  If she’ll let me.

  The lift reaches the foyer and we check in at the desk. Mia stands beside me, but not too close. She’s clearly confident about her sexuality, but she’s not remotely flirty or overly affectionate. Has she really never been in a relationship...? Why?

  I shelve my curiosity, keen to get my hands on her, the self-denial torture now she’s this close. There isn’t much night left and a whole lot of pleasure to cram into it.

  Another lift. The air seems thicker, warmer in this one, heavy with sexual tension when Mia glances sideways at me, her lips parted, thick enough to slice with a knife. And then we’re in the suite I’ve booked, the bottle of wine I’ve ordered already chilling in a bucket of ice.

  The door clicks closed behind us and some of the tension coiled in my muscles leaves me with my slowly exhaled breath.

  I’ve barely uttered the word ‘Drink?’, barely made one step in the direction of the wine before she drops her bag on the floor and flies at me, taking what she wants with a rough tug around my neck and voracious kisses.

  Thank fuck!

  My patience snaps like overstretched wire. I’m right there with her. Her hands slide into my hair and her body mashes to my front. The release leaves me in a groan as I scoop my arm around her waist and haul her up from the floor and onto my mouth. Her hands twist, seeking anchorage, and her thighs cling to my waist as she kisses me, as if she too had been seconds from breaking point.

  I kiss her back, slaking the need pounding through my veins, while I grapple with the urge to rush this. My body wants one thing, but my head demands control, and right now Mia’s wildness matches the storm in me.

  I slide the coat from her shoulders and slip my hand under her sweater to find her nipples hard and straining against her bra. I drag my mouth away from hers, loving her throaty gasp of outrage and the pink flush to her skin.

  ‘Take off your clothes.’ I want her naked. I want to fuck her all the ways I can.

  She lifts her sweater over her head and I resist the urge to reach out and stroke her cheek, which is dotted with the same freckles that cover her shoulders. She shivers, wetting her lips with a swipe of her tongue, and lust pounds me but there’s no time to enjoy the show because she’s back, kissing me, intermittently clawing at my clothes and grappling with her own.

  No need, darlin’. You had me at ‘Good to meet you.’

  I slow things down, taking hold of both her wrists in one hand and raise them overhead while I walk her backwards and press her against the wall. The longer I draw this out, the greater the reprieve from feeling. She’ll be lucky to sleep before dawn.

  With my free hand I unfasten her bra and push it down, tearing my mouth from her wild kisses to get my lips around the nipple that’s haunted the few hours of sleep I’ve managed since Monday.

  Her hips buck against mine and she gasps as I first tongue the nipple and then scrape my teeth over the bud.

  I look up, revelling in the mixed emotions flitting through her beautiful stare while I press my erection into her belly. ‘You know we’re going to be good together.’

  Her pupils dilate, a breathy little shudder leaving her as she offers a shaky nod.

  I force my exhale through relaxed lips to stop the whoosh of air revealing the need pounding in my blood. Her body undulates against mine, unable to keep still, but this doesn’t surprise me about Mia.

  She holds my stare.

  Good.

  I want her eyes wide open, watching what I’m going to do to her. I step back, muscles punishing me for my change of pace. But Mia needs to be savoured, like the wine we’re both too impatient to drink.

  I lift the bra and cup her perfect breasts, one at a time, my thumb torturing the peaks while passion blazes across Mia’s face. My dick throbs. Can she see the effect she has on me? But my excitement is laced with poison, yesterday’s turmoil still fresh.

  I need more. Need all of her.

  She releases a small cry, half-moan, half-protest. Perhaps she senses the barely controlled beast in me. Perhaps it’s too big for her to handle, like, some days, it’s too big for me.

  I finish opening the zip of her jeans and push the fabric over her hips. She wriggles, helping, her hands still trapped by one of mine. She’s given me the control I need, but it costs her, lust and defiance warring for control of her stare. I reward her with my hand burrowing into her underwear, my fingers probing between her legs to find the slickness I expected.

  I let go of her hands so I can crouch in front of her and help to peel the skin-tight denim from her long, slender legs.

  When I lift my stare up her body, resisting the temptation to press my mouth to her flat belly and taste her silky skin, I catch sight of her fingers tapping against one thigh.

  I capture the fluttering fingers and stand, pressing her hand to my erection through my jeans and holding it there until the tension seeps from her hand, her arm and finally her face.

  Mia has an Achilles heel. The fidgeting, the need to prove herself, the fight. Does it go deeper than nerves?

  She asked me in the car on Monday if I wanted to tame her—also not my kink. But now, the urge to unearth Mia’s secret places calls to me, a curiosity, a hedonistic indulgence I’d bel
ieved long ago extinguished. I shouldn’t care—it’s not what this is about. But I’m beyond intrigued. And I’m selfish. When I push inside her, when those tight internal muscles of hers squeeze my dick, I want to know I’m the only thing she feels; that the only thought in her head is how good it feels.

  The only thing Mia has to prove is that she’s come, several times.

  I release her hand. Her fingers linger, rubbing and gently squeezing for one beat, two. I press her back against the wall, the small gasp as her arse hits what is probably the cool paintwork filling my mouth.

  Her wild kisses match the way she kissed me in the car, her breathy moans and whimpers loud enough to be heard in the room next door. My body is all but roaring, the adrenaline off the charts and my dick painfully engorged. This is what I’ve craved since I met her. The release. The all-consuming rush. The command of her pleasure.

  Another surge of blood to my groin makes me wince, reminding me I’m still fully clothed. I pull my mouth away and push her shoulders back against the wall to break the kiss.

  ‘Stay there. Don’t move.’

  She listens, panting as hard as I am, those glorious tits rising into my field of vision with every breath. I toss my shirt and pop the buttons on my fly, providing my dick with some relief. And then I press up against her, loving the way her eyelids droop over those sexy eyes, and her fingers reflexively clutch my forearms as if she’d fall over without me there to hold her up.

  I kiss her again, revelling in the way her nails dig into my skin, and her eyes turn glassy, and then I slide my mouth to her ear, sucking in her essence—honeysuckle, warm woman and sex. My muscles scream with inertia. I want Mia undone, her façade cracked open, any detachment she’s clinging to flying to the stars as she succumbs to pleasure at my hands.

  ‘Stay against the wall, or I’ll stop.’ It’s a low growl and a promise. While she’s here, she’s mine. My hand returns to between her legs, my fingers instantly coated in her arousal.

  ‘Kit...’

  My name on her lips slams fresh heat through me. I watch the lust bloom across her face as I push my finger inside her and twist my wrist. She cries out, her hips bucking against my hand. Euphoria thickens my blood—this is the control I seek, the brief interlude from punishing myself with what if and it should have been me.