What He Executes (What He Wants, Book Twenty-Three)

by Hannah Ford

  I gasped again. “Please.”

  “Please what?”

  “Please fuck me.”

  “You need to be fucked baby?” he rasped. “Nice and hard and fast?”

  “Yes.”

  He pulled his cock away and I whimpered, one of those little whimpers I knew he loved, and then before I knew it he’d plunged into me from behind, his whole cock stretching and filling my sex.

  My core tightened and my clit thrummed, the pain and pleasure mixing together into an intoxicating cocktail. I threw my head back and Noah pulled my arms off the shower wall and pinned them behind me.

  He held my wrists together, using them for leverage as he angled his hips and pumped into me.

  With every thrust, the crest of his cock slid in and out of me, brushing against my clit.

  “This is what you needed, baby? You needed to get fucked hard, didn’t you? Right in that tight little pussy?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes, baby, look at those tits bouncing up and down while I fuck you.”

  I groaned and he leaned down and licked my bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth so hard that when he let it go I felt swollen and bruised.

  “Look,” he growled, and I did as he said, watching my breasts jiggle and move with every thrust.

  He screwed me harder, angling his hips to get in deeper, my pussy so wet that he was sliding into me freely now. And yet with every push, I could feel myself spreading out around him, my pussy struggling to take every inch of him. I felt his balls against my ass.

  “Noah,” I moaned.

  I was going to come. My core clenched around him as my orgasm pulsed through me, spasms of pleasure ripping through me and shattering me into a million pieces.

  “Charlotte.” He pulled out of me and pushed me down on the ground, pushing his cock into my mouth.

  I sucked greedily, desperate for him to come. I watched him above me, his muscles clenching with the effort, the water beading off his skin, his body perfect and built.

  I was wet again just watching him, and a moment later, he pulsed his seed into my mouth, spurt after spurt.

  I swallowed it, mouthful after mouthful of cum, until he went still.

  I stared up at him and he stared down at me.

  I was on my knees, vulnerable for him.

  And when he pulled me up and pressed my body to his, I closed my eyes and hoped that someday soon he would let himself be vulnerable for me.

  He hadn’t come inside of me.

  I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

  And I hated that I didn’t want to bring it up to him, hated that I felt like things might just finally be getting back to normal with us and yet there were things I couldn’t say, couldn’t push him on. Noah Cutler was like a tricky puzzle or game of chess – every move you made when it came to him had to be calculated well in advance.

  But I didn’t want to have to worry about being in the kind of relationship where every move had to be thought of, where I felt like I was always trying to get to checkmate. It had been long enough.

  We were engaged, for God’s sake.

  My new ring sparkled under the bathroom lights as I dried my hair, applied a swipe of lip gloss and a light smoky eye, then dressed in a pair of black pants and an oversized long cream-colored cashmere sweater that had mysteriously appeared in my closet.

  “What time will you be done?” Noah asked when we were settled into the back of his black town car. There was a partition between us and the driver, and I reached over and pushed the button, driving up the barrier between us. I knew Jared wouldn’t be offended.

  If Noah noticed that I wanted privacy, he didn’t remark on it. He was dressed in a black suit, his hair perfectly styled, his shoes shiny, his face freshly shaven. The collar of his crisp white shirt popped from under his suit coat, his cufflinks etched with the symbol of fancy Italian designer that was way too posh for me to ever have even heard of.

  “It shouldn’t take long,” I said, smoothing my hair nervously. I wondered if I should have worn it up. Then I told myself I was being silly – I was just going down to get some information. This wasn’t anything official. I had no one to impress.

  “That is very ambiguous language, Charlotte.”

  “An hour? Maybe two? It depends on what they tell me when I get down there.” Now I was smoothing my pants, my palms suddenly sweaty.

  “You’ll meet me at my office when you’re done.” It was a demand, not a question, and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at his bossiness. I could never be sure when such a gesture would result in him taking me over his knee, and that would definitely not get me to school.

  “Yes, I’ll meet you,” I said. “but I’m going to go home and walk Docket first.”

  I watched him out of the corner of my eye as his jaw twitched. I could tell he didn’t like it, me walking around the city without him.

  “Call me before you take Docket out.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’ve gotten information that leads me to believe that there’s going to be a story run today in the paper about us.”

  My stomach flipped. My mother had come to visit not that long ago, and while she was here, she’d had an affair with a well-known tabloid reporter. I actually wasn’t sure you could even call it an affair. It was more like a one-night stand gone wrong.

  “What will the article say?”

  “I’m not sure,” Noah said. “But the press has gotten wind of what happened upstate, and they’re dying to print the details.”

  Up until now, any coverage about what happened had to do with Professor Worthington being captured. Now, apparently, all the salacious details were going to be public.

  His phone rang before I could press him for more details, and he reached into his pocket and pulled it out. Every gesture was fluid, everything about him elegant and yet somehow rugged at the same time.

  My belly clenched, thinking about his hands on me, his mouth, the marks he left on my skin with the punishments he gave me. I shivered just thinking about it. He exuded sexuality, even just sitting here on the phone.

  “Cutler,” he barked into the receiver. He frowned and checked his watch, the dark wide face of it somehow foreboding, like it was keeping time for things that couldn’t be mentioned. “I said 9 o’clock. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Have Maggie get us breakfast from Patisserie 9. Fine.” He clicked off without saying goodbye.

  “Patisserie 9,” I said. “That’s fancy. Who are you having breakfast with?”

  “Clementine.”

  Her name caused my throat to clench.

  “We’re going over the Lilah Parks case so that she can brief the new counsel.”

  “Oh.” It was all I could think to say, even as jealousy streamed through my veins. Noah had recused himself from the Lilah Parks case of course – there was no way that he could continue to defend her after what had happened at Lameuix’s. But her trial would still take place – she’d murdered someone, even if new facts had come to light – so it made sense she would want a new lawyer.

  I hated the idea of Clementine and Noah eating breakfast together, the two of them sipping coffee and laughing, their heads huddled together. I shifted on the seat.

  “Is everything okay, Charlotte?” Noah asked as he reached over and picked up the New York Times from where it had been placed in the door’s side pocket. “You seem bothered.”

  “I just don’t like the idea of you being alone with Clementine, that’s all.”

  “Clementine is a colleague.”

  “She’s your ex-girlfriend.”

  “I didn’t have girlfriends before you.” His eyes scanned the paper, and I reached over and pushed it down and out of his reach. He looked up, raising his eyebrows in amusement at the gesture. But there was nothing amusing about how I felt.

  “You know what I mean, Noah. You wouldn’t like it if there was a guy I was having breakfast with alone. You wouldn’t allow it.”

  “You’re
right,” he said. “I wouldn’t.”

  “Why didn’t you come inside of me this morning?” I blurted.

  Noah folded the paper and set it down on the seat across from him. “You know why.”

  “See, there’s that lawyer talk,” I said, shaking my head. My fists balled in frustration and I tried not to get too upset. “You tell me I know why, but really, I have no idea.”

  “Charlotte, you know how I feel about having a baby.”

  “No,” I said. “Actually, I don’t. I know that you said you don’t want to get me pregnant. But I have no idea why or how you’re hoping I’ll respond to it.”

  He got quiet and his phone buzzed again.

  This time, he made no move to reach for it.

  “Is having children something that’s important to you?” he asked.

  “You’re asking me this now, when we’re five minutes away from dropping me off?”

  “You said you wanted to talk.”

  “No, I said I wanted to understand.” I shook my head. “And that takes more than just a one second conversation in the back of a car.”

  He lowered his eyes, and I knew he felt vulnerable when it came to things like this, knew it was uncomfortable for him to talk about his feelings, his emotions, his past. But it was just as uncomfortable for me to do the things he required of me – the punishments, the rules, the possessive qualities he exhibited.

  “If you decide this marriage is not something you’re interested in, I understand.”

  “Jesus,” I said. “That’s what you got from this?” I reached over and touched his chin, turning his face toward mine. “I’m in this,” I said. “I want this. I want you. But having you means understanding things about you and talking about things.”

  He went to look away again, to shut down the way he’d had countless times before. I would let him use my body if that’s what it took, I would make that trade off, but I was going to find out where this came from, what it was that kept him so closed off when it came to this. We were going to talk.

  “You’re going to be my husband,” I said. “Now that this whole nightmare is behind us, we can start our life together. Our life as husband and wife.”

  He pulled me close to him, his lips brushing against my temple. I inhaled his scent, the woodsy cologne and the faint musty scent of his shampoo.

  “I want you,” he said. “Forever.”

  “I want you too,” I said. “All of you.”

  I closed my eyes as his hands wandered through my hair. But he didn’t say anything else, so finally I closed my eyes tighter and tried to make myself believe it was possible.

  Noah kissed me goodbye and dropped me off in front of the administration building at Middleton. I’d been in the building a million times, but today its sweeping arches and broad columns seemed more foreboding than usual.

  I took a deep breath.

  There was nothing to be scared about, I told myself. I just needed to go in there and face whatever it was that was coming.

  As I reached the top of the steps in front of the building, my phone rang, the caller ID showing a 212 number I didn’t recognize. I’d had enough of phone calls from numbers I didn’t recognize.

  But I took a deep breath and answered it.

  “Hello, can I speak with Charlotte Holloway please?” a perky young girl’s voice on the other end of the line chirped happily. In the background, I could hear the sounds of an office – typing, a phone ringing, the soft murmur of voices.

  “Who’s calling please?” I asked.

  “This is Clare from Dr. Solomon’s office,” she said. “Is this Charlotte? I’m just calling to confirm you appointment with Dr. Solomon tomorrow at 10 am.”

  “This is Charlotte,” I said. “But I’m sorry, I don’t have an appointment with a Dr. Solomon.” I was at the doors to the building now and I opened them, moving out of the way as a kid in a three- piece suit carrying a briefcase almost bumped into me.

  I swallowed my annoyance, and almost missed what the girl on the other end of the line was saying.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, sounding like she genuinely was. “I was sure that Mr. Cutler confirmed with the doctor, but maybe I was mistaken.”

  “Wait, what?” I said. “Who made the appointment?”

  “Noah Cutler,” she said. “He’s a friend of Dr. Solomon’s. He said you needed to be seen as soon as possible.”

  “And what kind of doctor is Dr. Solomon?” I asked.

  “She’s an OB-GYN,” the girl said.

  “Got it,” I said. “Well, thanks, but I’ll have to call you back.”

  “Okay. But –“

  I hung up on her, not caring about whether or not I was being rude.

  I text Noah immediately.

  Dinner. Tonight. Seven o’clock.

  This was getting ridiculous. We were going to talk, and we were going to do it tonight. Whether he liked it or not.

  I have a meeting, came the reply.

  Cancel it.

  I watched the screen as three dots appeared, indicating he was typing a response. I imagined him sitting in the back of the car, frowning as he looked at his phone.

  He probably thought I was being dramatic.

  But Noah thought anything was dramatic when it came to actually talking about feelings, so it wasn’t like I could trust his judgment.

  The three dots disappeared, and then started again, letting me know that he’d deleted something and then started again.

  I liked that for once I was the one making him second-guess his responses.

  Fine. We’ll order in.

  No, I wrote back. We’re going out. I don’t care where. You pick.

  There was no way I was going to have this conversation at our apartment, where he could do whatever he wanted to make sure I was distracted, to possess me, to dominate me, to own me.

  At least out being out somewhere would temper that somewhat.

  Fine. I will have my assistant make reservations.

  I love you.

  I love you too.

  I blushed reading those words. Even though I was infuriated and frustrated, I loved him so much. I couldn’t imagine spending my life with anyone else. I just needed him to let me in.

  I pushed open the door to the admissions office and waited patiently as the girl ahead of me fought with the work-study student who was working the desk. She was trying to get him to release her transcripts, but he kept insisting there was a ten-dollar fee, which she refused to pay.

  She was really getting going, and by the time he’d told her to step aside, he looked rather frazzled.

  “Just a minute,” he said to me. “I’m sorry, I’ll get someone else to help you. I need to take care of this.”

  “No problem,” I said, trying to be kind since he looked like he was having a bad day.

  But my magnanimous mood soured quickly when I saw who was stepping out of the back office to help me.

  Josh.

  Josh, who’d worked on Noah’s case with me, back when he’d been accused of murder.

  Josh, who’d dated my old roommate Julia.

  Josh, who I’d caught jerking off into my panties.

  Josh, who was a total pervert and asshole and was supposed to have been called as one of the witnesses at my disciplinary hearing.

  “Hi,” he said brightly, a smile lighting up his face like a smartass. “How can I help you today?”

  “Um, I need information about how to withdraw from school,” I said, thrusting my chin into the air and daring him to give me shit.

  He gave me an I-told-you-so smile, then reached under the desk and pulled out a packet of forms, slapping it down on the counter in front of me.

  “There you go,” he said. “It has all the information you need about how to quit.”

  I ignored the quip about quitting. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  I almost left then, because I really didn’t feel like dealing with this. But I came here to
figure out what was going on with my disciplinary hearing. And it wasn’t like Josh didn’t know about it. I’d seen his name on the list of witnesses that had been sent to my apartment.

  “I’d also like to check the status of my disciplinary hearing,” I said. I forced myself to sound businesslike. “I was told the case had been closed.”

  He looked at me. “Oh, really? That’s too bad. I was really hoping that I’d have a chance to see you there.”

  I stayed quiet, giving him a death glare, until he sighed and typed something into the computer.

  “Yes,” he said. “It looks like whoever made the claim dropped it.”

  “Thanks,” I said automatically before I could stop myself. He didn’t deserve any kind of politeness, but I didn’t have to worry, because it didn’t seem like he was even paying attention to me. Instead, he was reading the complaint against me.

  I could see the form up on the screen, typed out neatly, the boxes filled with all kinds of information and what looked like a lengthy statement whoever had made the complaint had given. I couldn’t believe he was reading it in front of me so blatantly. It had to be against some kind of confidentiality rules.

  “Can I get a copy of that?” I asked.

  Josh shrugged. “I guess.”

  He hit print and a machine whirled to life in the background. “Good idea to have it for your new school,” he said. “They’re going to want to know what you got up to.”

  “Thanks,” I said, sarcastically this time. “I really appreciate your concern.”

  He took his time handing it over, his eyes scanning the page. “All for some guy,” he said, sighing and shaking his head.

  I went to grab the paper out of his hand, but he held it out of my reach. “We charge fifteen dollars for copies.”

  “I thought it was ten,” I said, remembering what had just been said to the girl before me.

  “New policy.”

  “In the last five minutes?”

  He shrugged, like he was just a cog in a machine who could do nothing about it, instead of an asshole trying to rip me off.

  I forked over the money, wanting to get out of there, and figuring it would be better to give him an extra five dollars instead of prolonging our interaction.