Sudden Desires

by Shanora Williams

  “If you knew it was going to be a waste of time, why did you stay?”

  He shrugs. “She asked me to. It was either stay, or face sudden doom when I came back.”

  “Oh.” I drop my head and laugh a bit. “So… less than a week ago you didn’t give a fuck anymore about how she made you feel, but now, you care? Sounds like something has changed since you got back home. Are you here to call it off with me?”

  His eyes narrow, anger now present. “Do you think I would have even showed up if I wanted to call it off?”

  “Well, you are a few hours late.”

  He sighs, sliding in closer to my side. When he presses his lips together to smile, I realize I’m overreacting. “Don’t think too much, Angelina. Please.”

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper, tucking my hair behind my ear. “You’re right. You’re so right. I’m thinking way too much about this.” But it doesn’t mean I will stop.

  He reaches up to twist a few strands of my hair around his finger. “Your hair… it’s different.” His mouth twitches to smile. “I like it.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Did you do this for me?” he asks, studying my mane.

  “Um, no,” I laugh, playfully swatting his hand away. “I just decided on something different.”

  He shrugs one shoulder, his hand possessively clutching my upper thigh. “Doesn’t matter,” he mumbles. “Regardless, it’s going to get fucked up tonight.”

  My sex clenches as I fight a smile. I can feel my nipples pebbling beneath my strapless bra, warmth running to my core. All arousal springs out of me as Griffin’s hand moves north on my thigh.

  “Let’s get you out of this dress, huh?” he murmurs, grabbing the hem. “Get you comfortable.” His mouth comes to the bend of my neck and he kisses me there, so tenderly, so smoothly, I ache like never before. With ease, he pulls my dress over my head as I kick my heels off and as I sit with nothing but my strapless bra and panties on, he asks, “How bad do you want my cock, Angel? Hmm? How long have you ached for me to be inside your sweet pussy again?”

  “I’ve been waiting for days, Griffin.”

  “It’s only been seventy-two hours,” he chuckles.

  “And with each one, I wanted you more and more.”

  He tilts his head back, a smirk on his lips as he asks, “Really?” He cups one of my breasts, and one of his fingers curls beneath the padding to toy with my nipple.

  “Yep,” I breathe.

  “Funny, babe, because I’ve felt the exact same way.” Babe… that’s new. I like it. Griffin’s eyes fix on mine, and since I’m so sick of waiting, I make the first move.

  I kiss him with my whole being, throwing my arms around the back of his neck and climbing on top of his lap.

  He allows me to take charge for a max of thirty seconds, but then flips me over, his hard groin plunging between my legs, his hands clasping mine and securing them above my head.

  “Take care of me,” I moan when our kiss finally breaks. “I need it. I’ve missed your cock so much.”

  His lips spread, breaking into a smile as he releases my hands and I unbutton the rest of his shirt. He pulls me forward, sitting me up straight and reaching around me to unhook my bra.

  And as he does, he’s placing sweet kisses on my shoulder, my collarbone, and my neck. His breath runs warm on my skin, fingers so firm yet so gentle.

  I allow him to do as he wishes, because what he wants is always so fulfilling to me. “Still whatever I want, right?” he asks.

  “Of course. Always.”

  His cheek quirks up, and in no time I’m flipped onto my stomach. His hand comes to my ass and he spanks one of my cheeks.

  I yelp and then sink my teeth into my lower lip, fire building in my chest. He groans, his fingers sneaking beneath the strap of my panties. He tugs them down, and then the bed dips.

  I glance back, and he’s unbuckling his belt and undoing his slacks. He shrugs out of his shirt, revealing rock-hard abs I can’t help but admire.

  His cock springs free once those briefs are gone, and my clit throbs at the sight of it. Hey boy, I think to myself. I remember you. How could I forget?

  Eyes shifting up to Griffin’s, I smile at him, and as if he can read my mind—as if he knows I’m just as ready as he is—he climbs back on the bed, whispering, “Stay just like that, Angel.”

  He grips my waist, slightly positioning my ass in the air so that my stomach is lifted only a little, right where he wants it, and then he hovers above me, one hand going outside my ribcage, while the other grips my throat and forces my head back.

  My eyes are pointed up to the ceiling. After a while, I can’t see the ceiling because his whiskey eyes replace it, brewing and ready.

  Then his mouth comes down hard on mine, and he smothers it, squeezing the base of my throat just a little tighter while his cock presses at my entrance from the back.

  He kisses me so full and sweet that it takes me by total surprise when his cock sinks deep into my pussy. My mouth gapes, but he doesn’t draw away. He continues kissing, allowing my body to adjust to his massive size. And when I relax, I swear it is so fucking perfect.

  Just what I wanted.

  With deep, easy strokes, Griffin runs in and out of me, and I keep my hips in position for him, because I want to savor it all, each thick, valuable inch.

  Not once does his mouth pull away from mine. I expect him to speak, to get me to talk, but he doesn’t. He’s wanted this badly—for days—and he’s proving it with this magical cock of his.

  In and out, deep and long, body tensing above me, grip tighter around my throat. It’s so amazing—I can hardly breathe, I feel so smothered, so bombarded, and yet… I can still breathe. I still feel free.

  He finally releases my throat, but it’s only to cup the right side of my face, fingers resting behind my ear. He turns my face in the direction of his, and kisses me.

  Sweetly.

  Wholly.

  Passionately.

  I quake when his body locks up behind me, and when he grunts, a mixture of a sigh and a moan spills through my lips because he’s close. And knowing he’s so close—knowing that my pussy is wringing him dry—I drop my head, clenching harder as his thick arm comes around my body and his fingers circle my swelling clit.

  After the slow, torturous circles get me to breaking point, finally, I cum.

  And he releases a small but heavy grunt. It’s deep, triggering constant spasms out of me. He keeps me as still as possible, making sure every single drop of his release shoots deep inside me.

  I pulsate around his throbbing cock, his mouth catching mine again, and when he finally lets my face go, I drop my head, panting wildly, whimpering from the aftermath.

  Not once did Griffin speak.

  Not once did he demand anything out of me.

  He took care of me.

  It just… happened.

  I promise you this time was even greater than the first. And all along I thought that the first time could never be outdone. Boy, was I wrong.

  Now, all I can wonder is what the future will bring us. I can’t say I’m not further intrigued. After all, incredible sex will leave you no choice but to think that way.

  I’m not sure when we fell asleep.

  I want to say about three hours or so ago. Griffin’s arm is sprawled across my stomach, the right side of his face buried into one of the fluffy white pillows. My eyes are heavy—not much sleep happened for me—but I can’t help but admire his beauty.

  There is a bit of stubble forming around his mouth and along his chiseled jawline. It makes him look more rugged. Sexier. As he breathes deeply, I have the sudden urge to touch it.

  He’s so beautiful.

  So handsome.

  How can anyone not love him?

  I mean, there must be a flaw. There has to be.

  Though Griffin can be a little overconfident and more on the serious side than content (which is probably because of his personal life and the stress from his job),
he is every woman’s dream. I have caught myself laughing at some of the things he’s said.

  I’ve admired his beauty from up close and afar.

  He has a body to die for, abs for days, slender, and not too bulky. Bare chest, strong legs, and a really, really nice cock. Long and surprisingly thick, actually. What woman can go wrong with that?

  My finger traces the light stubble, the graininess treading along my soft fingertip. It feels nice. It’s been a while since I’ve been this close to a man. Like, right with him in the bed. With him right beside me, breathing on my skin, taking up my space.

  I rather enjoy my space, but with Griffin Boyd I don’t mind sharing it at all.

  Thinking of this makes me remember the reason I held off on dating—why I gave it all up—and immediately I jerk my hand away from Griffin’s face, slapping some sense into myself.

  I can’t get caught up. I can’t do this with him. Nothing good will come out of this anyway—relationship-wise, that is.

  It’s wrong, I know, but I’m not sleeping with Griffin for the fun of it. I’m not sleeping with him because I just couldn’t control myself anymore.

  I mean, don’t get me wrong, I couldn’t control my urges much longer. I didn’t think he would be this damn gorgeous in person or this damn honest and respectful towards me.

  I feel bad, but this has to be done.

  This was the plan, after all.

  Getting him into my hotel bed.

  Getting him to fall for me.

  Getting him to trust me.

  The trust especially. That is key.

  I stare up at the ceiling, resting the back of my hand on my forehead. Now that I’m getting to know him I feel awful. Really, really awful.

  Neil and especially Scott made him seem like such an asshole—like a complete jerk… but I don’t think he is. He is far from it, actually. I can tell he cares. He respects me, and if his wife actually loved him he would respect her too.

  Just like me, his life is a little confusing and little discombobulated but, in a way, I can’t help but think that’s not such a bad thing.

  There are fucked up people in this world—people that want so much out of life and when they finally achieve it, it blows up right in their face. You think all is perfect, but then you get people who hate you. People who despise every cell in your body. People that just don’t understand…

  It can be depressing. Ugly.

  Money shouldn’t be the motive for me, but it is.

  And it’s too late to turn back now.

  It’s already started. I have to finish the job. I have to get this done.

  I think of Dad, and I know. I know I owe him this at least.

  EIGHTEEN

  Colette

  * * *

  I don’t believe Griffin went to work.

  Actually, I know he didn’t because when I called his office last night, he didn’t pick up.

  I don’t know what I wanted. I guess I just wanted to prove myself right. And I was.

  He wasn’t there. I know for sure because I called Kelly, his assistant, and as he stumbled over his bumbling mess of excuses to cover up for his lying boss, I hung up with the dissatisfying fact that I was right.

  I called Griffin’s cell phone a little over an hour ago. No answer.

  This has been happening for days now, and I hate to say it but I’m worried. First he hate fucks me for the first time ever. He glowers at me, and looks down upon me as if he is truly fed up with me and my shit.

  Has it really come to this?

  To ultimate hate between us?

  One of us has always been the better one—the one to try, and it’s always been Griffin, and deep down I always I found comfort in that… only a little. Because it means he still cares. Even though I don’t want him to care anymore… but then again I do.

  Fuck, I’m so backwards.

  Something just doesn’t feel right. Is there something I don’t know? Has his mother finally died from her money-sucking disease and I don’t know about it? Has his brother gotten AIDS? Or has my father, the cheating, lying, gluttonous bastard, gotten into his head?

  Griffin… he wouldn’t dare. Not if he knows what’s good for him. Not when he knows I’m a psycho bitch hidden beneath beautiful layers.

  God, I hate thinking about him like this.

  I hate feeling insecure. I hate when he isn’t begging me. I hate that I now know that he’s given up on me. I guess I should have seen this day coming sooner or later. Why am I complaining now?

  * * *

  Ten Years Ago

  * * *

  It was a chilly, fall day when I met Griffin Anthony Boyd.

  My father had a trip to New York planned for my sister, Beth. She’d just gotten her business started (that he invested in and pretty much owned) and he was quite proud of her for following in his footsteps.

  Mind you, I’d won many awards for my art at the gallery. I received money for my work, won Best Poise trophies and ribbons for my dancing. I was an artist in the truest of forms, but they couldn’t respect that.

  Apparently I was only a starving artist to them, constantly being told that getting awards isn’t the same thing as getting money. Like my pig of a father always said, “If it doesn’t bring in the dough, it isn’t worth jack-shit.”

  We were eating dinner, Dad arrogantly boasting about Beth as she smiled behind her glass of fine red wine. She’s three years older than me, which mean she was twenty-five when she finally got her business up and running. Another link to Dad’s heavy pockets.

  “Why can’t you be like your sister here, Colette?” he asked. “Why can’t you work with the numbers? Make some real money.”

  I narrowed my eyes across the table. “I’m not Beth. I’m not going to pretend to be passionate about something just to make you happy.”

  Beth rolled her eyes. “Sounds like someone’s jealous.”

  I scoffed, dropping my fork. “I’m jealous? Please, Beth, tell me. What the hell is there to be jealous of? Being miserable about your new job?”

  She laughed. “I’m far from miserable. The money will be terrific. Unlike you I will be able to take care of myself and make a decent living, travel the world if I please.”

  I thin my eyes at her. “Yeah, because money is all that matters.”

  “Um, in this world, Colette, it is. You think we would even be on this ferry, in this private section drinking this expensive wine and eating our expensive dinners, if we didn’t have the money? No,” she shook her head, “you live in a fucking fantasy, sis. You should get the fuck over that right now. Grow a pair and step up in this world or someone will always be taking care of you… and it won’t be me.” She rolled her eyes. “Besides sleeping with a relative’s boyfriends, how else will you be taken care of?”

  She’d pulled the last straw. I hated Beth, I really did. With a passion. I’d always wanted to pull her hair out, destroy her oh-so-pretty face. Crush it with whatever I could, like the knives and forks that sat in front of me on top of the table,

  “Girls, girls,” Mom butted in, but I ignored her mellow reaction, shoving from the table. I looked at Dad, but he only looked at me and shrugged. “Beth has a point, Coley,” Mom murmured.

  “Don’t call me that,” I spat, and then I stormed away. She was just as bad as them. She didn’t deserve to call me by my childhood name because a childhood name held respect. They had no respect for me.

  So, yes, I did sleep with Beth’s boyfriend. Like the guilty rat he was, he went and told her even though he knew she was sleeping around on him too.

  She only stuck with him because he was a rich guy but as soon as she found out about his sexscapde with me, she immediately dumped him, not even giving him a chance to explain or even let him talk about finding out about how she cheated. She kicked him out, and I haven’t seen Stan Michaels since.

  Maybe I was being a little slut… and maybe I was a little too drunk. But who cares? She sure as hell didn’t. She just wanted a reas
on to dump Stan and she got it through me.

  I needed to get as far away from my family as possible. I was truly fed up. I walked through the dining room, finding the exit and swinging the door open. I felt people watching me, all probably wondering what the hell my problem was. I didn’t care.

  I took a look around the deck I was on. Empty, just the way I needed it to be. No distractions. No interacting. Just quiet.

  I looked ahead, spotting the beautiful layout of New York City. The lights twinkled like stars in the night sky, towers lurking above, almost like guardians of the metropolitan area. There were a few clouds above it, but it was normal to see up here.

  Walking towards the handrails, I gripped them, and the coolness settled my heated palms. The breeze drifted by my bare shoulders. It didn’t bother me. I needed to cool down.

  It wasn’t until several minutes passed when I felt eyes on me. I didn’t know whom they belonged to. I figured it was one of my family members, maybe Mom, who was always so overprotective. But the heavy, permanent feeling on my backside didn’t feel familiar. I know it sounds weird, but it was different this time.

  It weighed me down, so much that I felt uncomfortable. I looked over my shoulder rapidly, spotting a guy cleaning off the tables.

  He wore a black vest over a cheap white button-up shirt. His brown hair was smoothed back and gelled to perfection. And as he collected each dirty dish on the table by the window, I couldn’t help but admire the mystery in his eyes.

  There was darkness.

  Sadness.

  Gloom.

  But on the bright side there was also amusement and curiosity. His eyes were soft but hard, if that is even possible. They pierced right through mine, and I felt fire immediately creep from my belly to my throat.

  My cheeks blazed with that same ferocious fire and as he dropped his bin of dirty dishes and started marching towards the door, I spun around, facing forward, my heart galloping like a wild steed.

  The door squealed on its hinges as I heard it open. And then it clicked shut, proving that he was now outside. My teeth started to chatter, and suddenly I felt vulnerable and cold.