by Hannah Ford
I moaned and bit my lip.
He pulled off his pants, his cock springing into view, hard and thick and perfect. I longed to feel it, and I reached for it, wrapping my hand around the soft steel. He let me stroke him for a moment, let me feel the drop of precum that had gathered on his tip, before he pulled my hand away and pinned me back down on the desk.
Then he was over me, grabbing my hips, pulling me toward him. He slid inside of me in one push, stretching me around him.
“Landon.”
“Shhh, baby, you’re okay,” he said. “Just relax and take it, remember?”
I nodded, giving my body to him, relaxing, letting him do what he needed.
He intertwined his hands with mine and held me down on the desk, the cool glass underneath me dulling the soreness that permeated the skin of my ass.
He pumped into me, his hips bucking, his eyes locked on mine.
“Say my name.”
“Landon,” I whispered. “Landon. I’m yours.”
“Aven,” he whispered. “God, Aven.” He was looking into my eyes, and he bucked his hips, then hefted my legs up and pushed them back.
I cried out as he plunged even deeper inside of me, the soft delicious pinch of pain that this new angle caused ricocheting through me.
He fucked me, holding my legs back, my tits bouncing, giving it to me hard and deep.
“Look at you taking me,” he said. “Look at the way that tight little pussy is taking me already.”
“You broke me in,” I said, and my dirty words caused him to pump into me faster and harder, his arms bracing himself under my knees, his muscles flexing with each thrust. His raw power was like nothing I’d ever seen before, masculine and primal and sexual.
Looking at him, seeing him over me like that made me want to come.
“Please,” I whispered. “Please, Landon, I want to come.”
He leaned down, pressing his forehead to mine, his lips brushing against my cheeks.
“You want to come on my dick, baby?” he murmured, pulling at the back of my neck, pulling me to him. “I want to come all over you. I want you to watch it.”
I groaned, not ever imagining something like that, but wanting it anyway.
“Come on me,” he growled, and I did, my pussy clenching like a fist around his cock, drawing him into me, deep and hard.
He filled me and I grabbed his biceps, holding him tightly as my orgasm rolled through me, building like a symphony’s crescendo. It bloomed outward from between my legs, taking over my entire body until I could feel its waves of pleasure in my fingers and toes.
My limbs were like spaghetti as Landon pulled out of me.
He looked down and began sliding his cock up and down on my slick pussy, mixing his precum with the arousal my orgasm had left behind.
“Look,” he groaned. “Watch me make you mine.”
I watched in fascination as he came, thick ropes of come shooting out of him and hitting the mound of my pussy, dripping down into my slit, leaving me hot and sticky. Shot after shot of creamy liquid, covering me, claiming me.
It was the most erotic thing I’d ever seen.
I reached up and pulled him toward me, cupping his hand in my face.
“Jesus, Aven,” He murmured my name and placed kisses up and down my cheeks, over my eyes, my lips, my neck. His lips were warm, his body heavy against mine, the weight sending delicious shivers up my spine.
“I could stay like this forever,” I said.
His body stiffened on top of mine.
He pulled back and looked at me, his eyes cold.
And then a second later, he turned away and began to get dressed, his mood completely changed. He was no longer being soft and gentle with me.
It was different than when he was being stern with me sexually, when he wanted to dominate me. When he did that, I could still feel his heart, could still sense his emotions under the surface. He was in control of them, but they were still there, his need to control me, to make me submit.
But this was different. His blue eyes were empty, his body language making it clear that he had completely shut down.
He began to get dressed.
“I didn’t mean –” I started.
“You should get dressed,” he said, not looking at me. “I’m going to shower. And then I’ll call down and get us separate rooms.”
For a moment, I was hurt.
It was like the cut of a knife, sharp and raw, leaving me unexpectedly wounded, my heart bleeding.
And then, just as quickly as the pain came, it was gone, replaced with hot, searing anger.
I got up from the desk and cleaned myself up with some tissues and the bottle of water that had been left on the nightstand.
Fuck this.
I was done.
It was one thing to have sex that was nothing more than physical, that wasn’t going to end up with hearts and flowers and promises of forever. I had no problem with that kind of sex, had no problem when Emma or the girls in college had done it. And even though I hadn’t done it up until this point, I had no problem with me doing it, either. I’d wanted to fuck Landon, had wanted him more than I’d wanted anyone in my life. And he’d been straight with me – I had no illusions that this would lead to anything.
What I did have a problem with, however, was the way he was treating me now. If two people had entered into a relationship where they were supposed to be having casual sex, that was totally fine. But there was a level of respect that needed to be given. You didn’t have sex with someone and then treat them the way that Landon was treating me.
If he thought I was going to put up with that bullshit, he was wrong.
I threw open my suitcase and rustled through the clothes he’d packed for me.
I pulled out a pair of black leggings and a light blue pullover. The clothes were gorgeous, lightweight but warm, the material like butter against my skin. He probably needed all these expensive clothes so that he could soothe the skin of the women he dominated, I thought bitterly.
Well, I was done.
I would find Violet on my own, I thought as I shoved my feet into a pair of sneakers, even as doubt that I could actually do that pulled at the back of my mind.
And then I froze.
The GPS.
The one in Landon’s car.
Why hadn’t I thought of it before?
It would have the address in it, the one we were driving to in Vermont. If I could get the address off the GPS, I could get there myself. I didn’t care if it was a remote location, if Landon was going to be able to get there, I was sure I could find a way to get there too.
All I had to do was get into his car, check the GPS history, and write down the address.
The sound of the shower running was still coming from the bathroom.
His keys were on the oak table by the door.
Before I could think about whether or not what I was doing was a good idea, I shoved my cell phone into my purse, grabbed Landon’s keys, and headed for the door.
Hold on, Violet, I thought. I’m coming to get you.
When I got down to the lobby, the front desk was empty. At first, I was annoyed – I’d planned to leave Landon’s keys there with the front desk clerk after I got the Vermont address off his GPS and called an Uber. But a few seconds later, as I moved toward the double doors of the lobby, I was grateful no one was at the desk, because they probably would have tried to stop me.
If I’d thought the weather had been bad before, it was even worse now.
The snow was falling in slanting sheets, making it hard to see anything more than a few feet in front of you.
Luckily, Landon’s car wasn’t parked that far away – about ten spots down on the left, at the end of the line of cars that lined the sidewalk.
I hesitated for a second in front of the double doors, wondering what I was going to do once I got the address. Go back to the city and enlist Emma to help me? Call an Uber to take me right there? I wasn’t sure if th
ere was even an Uber that would be out in this weather, but I’d have to worry about that later, I decided.
First, I needed to get the address.
Then I could decide what to do next.
I took a step forward and the automatic doors opened. The cold air rushed in, as if it were being sucked into a vacuum.
Instantly, my face went numb, and I wished I’d taken a second to put on a hat and gloves, or at least a jacket. But it was too late now.
I stepped out onto the sidewalk.
The ground was icy, the kind of ice that was thick and smooth. There was an overhang that jutted out from the brick building, shielding the sidewalk from the snow, but the wind was so strong that it had blown snowflakes onto the pavement where they’d fallen over the ice.
I felt for the key fob in my pocket.
I started down the sidewalk, and instantly, I began to slip. The traction on the sneakers I was wearing wasn’t great -- I really should have been wearing boots. I reached out and steadied myself on a pole, taking a deep breath.
I took another few steps, finally finding my footing.
Just go slowly, I told myself. Just go slowly and you’ll be fine.
I kept walking, one foot in front of the other, inching slowly toward the car.
I kept my head down, focusing on where I was planting my feet, and making sure not to trip.
But when I got to the end of the sidewalk, almost to Landon’s car, my feet hit a patch of ice, and it didn’t matter how gingerly I’d placed them.
They flew out from under me, and I tried to steady myself, to keep myself from tipping backward and landing hard on my tailbone. I overcompensated, and instead I tipped forward, my ankle twisting painfully underneath me.
I put my hands out to break my fall, but it was too late.
My face hit the icy snow bank that had formed at the end of the sidewalk, my mouth slamming against a hard chunk of snow.
I tasted blood, and I cried out.
Then suddenly, someone’s arms were around me, pulling me up and out of the snow.
Landon.
He leveled me with his gaze, his eyes blazing with disapproval at my disobedience.
It didn’t make sense, but all I felt in that moment was relief.
Relief that he’d come for me.
Relief that he was here.
And so when he lifted me out of the snow, tenderly and gingerly, more tenderly than I’d ever been touched or treated by anyone before, I wrapped my arms around him, buried my face in his neck, and let him carry me back into the hotel.
“It’s not broken.” Landon ran his hand over the skin on my ankle, his touch gentle as he pressed gently. I was sitting on the bed back in our room, propped up against pillows that he’d laid against the headboard. He was sitting next to me, and he’d pulled my ankle into his lap. “Does it hurt?” he asked.
“Not much.” It was true. Besides the wrenching pain that had slid through me when I’d first fallen, my ankle didn’t hurt.
“It was reckless going out into the snow like that, Aven.”
“As reckless as hitting a heavy bag without gloves?” I looked pointedly down at his knuckles, which were still marred and raw from his morning’s workout.
“Running out into the cold without a jacket or boots, with no idea where you were going was extremely dangerous.”
“I knew exactly where I was going.” Now that the pain had started to subside, and I was back in the warm room, Landon’s rejection blazed against my heart. “I was going to break into your car and find the Vermont address.”
He ignored my confession as if it were inconsequential and/or the dumbest plan he’d ever heard, then took my chin and tipped it up, looking at my lip. “You cut your lip on the snow.”
“Is it still bleeding?”
“No.” He got up from the bed and returned a moment later, holding a washcloth that he’d wet with cold water. He pressed it against my lip, wiping away the dried blood. “It’s just a tiny cut.” His voice was low, the timber reverberating through me, and my stomach tightened at the way his blue eyes had locked onto mine. “You could have hurt yourself even worse.”
I snorted. “I was fine.”
“You weren’t fine,” he said, and now he sounded frustrated. “Jesus, Aven, you need to be more goddamned careful.”
“Oh, now you’re suddenly worried about me being hurt?” I laughed. “That’s pretty funny. When you acted like a total asshole to me a few minutes ago, you didn’t seem like you cared.”
He looked away, angling his body away from me. “If I said something to upset you, I understand. But that is no reason to take off and put yourself in harm’s way. It’s unacceptable.”
“What’s unacceptable is the way you’re treating me,” I said. “What’s unacceptable is fucking someone and then acting like they mean nothing to you, telling them you’re going to get them a separate room!” I shook my head.
“Aven.”
“Landon.”
“Stop.” He was bent over now, his elbows on his knees, his arms at right angles, perpendicular to the floor. I watched as he clenched his fists, my eyes landing on the bruises and cuts that marred his knuckles.
“No, I won’t stop. I’m not some naïve little girl, Landon. Just because I’m a virgin, doesn’t mean I’m an idiot. I get it. I’m not going to get attached to you. You don’t have to worry about that. But you can still treat me like I’m a human being.”
“I’m warning you,” he growled. He turned to look at me, the strong curve of his jaw clenching, his brow furrowing as a vein in his temple pulsed. But I was beyond caring.
“No, I’m warning you,” I said. “Quit it with your ego. I said I could stay like that forever because it felt good. In the moment. It’s like when you say you could live on ice cream for the rest of your life or something! You don’t really mean it.”
“So you didn’t really mean it.”
“No. I mean, I did … it’s not…” I was confused now, and I tried to focus my thoughts. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to slow my heart rate. “I meant that it felt good, being close to you. But I understand of course, logically, literally, that I couldn’t stay like that forever.”
Silence descended over the room. He started straight ahead, at the wall. Something about his silence was almost worse than if he were telling me to stop. My words hung in the air, the last syllable of the last word I’d said – forever – echoing over and over.
“Say something!” I said finally.
He stood up, slipped his arms under my knees, and picked me up.
“What are you doing?”
But he didn’t answer me.
Instead, he stayed quiet, bringing me into the bathroom and setting me down on the ground.
He reached over and started the taps of the bath, the water running into the basin, hot and steamy. He left and returned with a bottle of bubble bath he must have packed in my suitcase.
He poured some into the water, and then began to strip me out of my cold, wet clothes.
His hands were sure, and even though I wanted to protest as he began to undress me, I didn’t. I stayed quiet, wanting him, wanting him so badly I could feel it like a pulse.
His eyes stayed locked on mine, his chest heaving, as he stripped me naked. The attraction between us twisted and danced, so palpable that it felt as if it were alive.
When he was finished undressing me, he took his own clothes off, then took the hair elastic from around my wrist, twisted my hair up into a high ponytail, picked me back up and brought me to the bath.
He lowered me into the tub and the water instantly soothed my sore muscles and warmed my cold skin.
He got into the tub, sitting behind me, my back to his chest.
“Too hot?” he asked, his breath grazing the skin underneath my ear.
“No.”
We stayed quiet and still for a few moments, as Landon scooped water into his hands and poured it over my bare shoulders.
S
team rose around us, the only sound the trickle of the water as it slid over my skin and back into the tub.
After another long moment, he spoke.
“I’m not close to anyone, Aven.”
I froze. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I’m not close to anyone.” His voice was low, serious.
“What about Conner?”
“My brother is the only one.”
“What about your parents?” My heart was pounding, and I tried to keep my voice neutral, scared that if I pushed him, I would scare him and make him shut down. And I wanted more than anything for him to let me in, in whatever way, even if it was small.
“My mother is dead.”
My stomach clenched at the way he said it. ‘My mother is dead.’ I never referred to my parents that way – I always said they’d passed away, or that I’d lost them.
Dead.
It sounded so final, so …removed.
I realized that was exactly why he said it that way. That he must have spent a long time getting himself to the point where he just could say it with finality, no emotion involved.
“And your father?”
“My father doesn’t believe in relationships.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means my father is into transactions. Money. Things that are wroth something, that bring value his life.”
“Relationships bring love and companionship.”
“My father doesn’t care about those things.”
“He adopted you and Conner. He must have wanted children.”
“What he wanted was something that made him look good. And adopting two children made him look good. Conner and I are transactions, nothing more, nothing less.” His voice was still devoid of emotion. I placed my palms on his calves, feeling the cords of his muscles under the water.
I scooted forward and then swung around so that I was facing him.
He stared at me, his blue eyes serious, his jaw set in that same determined line I’d come to know.
“And you?” I asked.
I moved forward even more, wrapping my legs loosely around his waist.
“What about me?”
“Are those things important to you? Love, companionship?”
His first instinct was to say no, I could tell. His eyebrows raised and the side of his mouth quirked as if he were about to say something sarcastic.