by Tessa Bailey
Was she angry? Hell yeah. He had just gotten finished lecturing her about the importance of speaking up, explaining what she wanted, sexually or otherwise. Laying down ground rules that were important to her. Then he’d gone and swiped the free will rug out from under her feet. She didn’t appreciate having decisions made on her behalf. It reminded her too much of what she’d witnessed growing up. Watching her mother repeatedly acquiesce to her father’s demands. Never speaking up for herself. She didn’t want to be that type of woman, ever. When she’d asked Oliver to help her learn about this world, she hadn’t expected him to be the one to damage that newfound confidence inside of her. She’d wanted…hoped he would expand it.
She did like Porter, as she’d told Oliver, but that hadn’t been why she was bordering on tears as she left Oliver’s apartment. Not even close. Her body had been coming down off whatever precipice Oliver had put her on. It had been like downhill skiing with no poles, right into a brick wall. Her body had been aching, blood rushing in her ears, a voice in her head shouting at her to stop being so outraged and let him drive her higher once again. How she’d resisted that urge, she still couldn’t understand. Even now, she could close her eyes and feel his hand between her legs, his tongue licking up the side of her neck. Oh yeah. He was every bit as amazing as she’d always imaged. Times infinity. A few more minutes with him and she would have blasted off like the space shuttle.
Honestly, she couldn’t have been any more obvious about her lack of experience if she’d tattooed: You want to put it…where? Across her forehead. He’d touched her between the legs, and she’d practically been speaking in tongues. That embarrassment, coupled with her hurt pride had caused tears to burn behind her eyes. At least she could console herself with the fact that they’d never fallen. She’d meant what she said about liking Porter, but she could admit to herself, and only to herself, she hadn’t thought of him from the time she’d entered the apartment to when Oliver brought him up. Telling her he’d told the man to fuck off. Unbelievable.
Now she’d have to start at square one. Something existed inside her, curiosity that needed to be explored. She wouldn’t let this, albeit disappointing, setback keep her from learning more about herself.
Starting tomorrow.
On her desk, the intercom buzzed. “Yes?”
“Delivery for you. Send them in?”
“’kay.”
She put her head back down, hoping the delivery guy would leave whatever box of fabric swatches or catalogues he’d brought by and scram. Communicating with the outside world didn’t appear to be in her wheelhouse today. She eyed the foot space under her desk. Could she curl up inside there and take a nap? Everyone might assume she was out for a meeting. As she pondered that idea, a young kid wearing a backwards baseball cap rounded the corner of her office. He had an object in his hands that was so heavy, he stumbled a little under the weight of it. It was covered in white butcher paper, though, so she couldn’t see beneath.
“Where you want it?” He said, in a winded Brooklyn accent.
“Depends what it is.” The kid made an impatient noise and set the delivery down on her desk. On top of everything. Then he held out his hand for a tip. Eliza sighed and reached into her pocket, drawing out a few singles. “You’re ballsy. I’ll give you that.”
He winked in reply and was gone from her office seconds later. Eliza eyed the package warily for a beat, then ripped a strip off the front. Was that…a giant cookie? She tore off the remaining paper to reveal a giant heart-shaped cookie with the words “I’m A Douchebag” written across the front in pink frosting. A reluctant smile tried to break out along her face, but she squashed it.
Her cell phone vibrated on her desk. She didn’t even need to glance at the screen to know who was calling. After the fourth ring, she picked it up. “Mr. Preston,” she said briskly. “What can I do for you? I’m busy.”
“Busy eating a delicious cookie, I hope?”
It did look delicious. And damn him, why did he have to sound so familiar and solid, that masculine voice traveling through the phone to harden her nipples. Before she’d kissed Oliver, let him touch her, there had been an attraction on her end. Now she didn’t stand a chance. Which is why she had to avoid him for a while. “They’ll love it in the mail room.”
“You’d give it away? I stayed up all night baking that cookie for you.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“I know.” He sighed. “Does it count that I had to call five bakeries before I found someone who would write the word ‘douchebag’ in frosting?”
“I would have called you a douchebag for free.”
He groaned. “Direct hit, bunny.” In the background, she could hear him pacing his office. She could picture him there, Manhattan skyline behind him, suave and drop-dead sexy in his perfectly-tailored work suit. What a douchebag. “Eliza, I’m sorry. I fucked up. Making a decision like that for you was inexcusable.” He paused, completely oblivious that his rare moment of sincerity had sent Eliza’s eyebrows shooting toward her hairline. “I’m not going to pretend I like Porter for you, but it’s not up to me to decide. I still want to help you.” His voice deepened. “Please let me help you, babe.”
“Um,” was all she could manage, her mouth gone dry. Her pulse had started tripping all over itself, her brightly lit office suddenly transformed into a possible pleasure den. Oh, the things she could do with that voice talking to her. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea anymore.”
You don’t know? Before the cookie showed up, she’d been planning on avoiding him for the foreseeable future. One little apology and she’d lost her resolve. She opened her mouth to tell him thanks but no thanks, but he spoke before she could. “Look, if you agree to these lessons with me…at the end of them, I’ll call Porter myself and apologize. I’ll even arrange the date for you.”
Again, he’d shocked her. Never mind that he sounded like the words were being strangled from his throat. “I…that’s a nice offer, Oliver. I guess. But I’m still not sure.”
“Why don’t I tell you what I’d like to do with you this evening, then you decide?”
Bad idea. “Th-that sounds fair.”
He hummed in his throat, and Eliza’s breathing went shallow. “I want you to come to my gym after work. You won’t know me. And I won’t know you.” Eliza’s belly fluttered with anticipation she couldn’t deny. This didn’t even sound like the man she knew. It sounded like someone else entirely. Someone intense and commanding. “I’m not your friend’s brother. You’re not my sister’s friend. You’re just the woman I’m going to take one look at and want to fuck in several positions.” The sound of pacing in the background stopped. “Have I made it clear what I want from you, Eliza?”
Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, blurring the room around her into a kaleidoscope. The flesh between her legs dampened, clenching to such an extreme degree, she had to press her hand there to ease the throb. This. This was what she’d been waiting for. What she’d been needing. She could no more say no than she could avoid eating some of that taunting cookie.
“Yes, Oliver.”
“Good girl.” Did she hear a note of relief? “No panties under your gym clothes, Eliza. If you wear them, I’ll strip you down in front of the entire gym and tear them off.”
Oh. Mama. She made a sound of agreement then hung up before she humiliated herself by begging to meet him on their lunch break instead of after work. With a shrug, she leaned down and took a hands-free bite out of the cookie. Apparently she’d be working it off later.
Chapter Seven
Oliver had gotten to the gym early to work off some steam. His phone call this morning with Eliza had been eye opening and had resulted in a distinctly uncomfortable work day. Under most circumstances, working with family wasn’t easy. Having your sister breeze into your office after her best friend just gave you a hard on and it graduated to impossible.
He’d been losing her attention. Even over the phone, he could feel her
slipping away, more surely than when she’d slammed his apartment door last night. He wasn’t used to a girl giving him the cold shoulder nor did he like it. So he’d taken a risk. On one hand, he was fucking grateful it had paid off. He needed to shake this rapidly increasing need for Eliza, and he couldn’t do that if she refused to forgive him. Only based on the way she’d reacted to the steel in his voice, he was pretty sure what Eliza needed. One command from him and she’d practically been panting through the phone. This mission she was on didn’t stem from mild curiosity. No, she was drawn to it for a good reason. He intended to show her how amazing it could be. How amazing she could be.
From now on, he would keep his head around her. These lessons were going to kill two birds with one stone. He would lower his attraction to Eliza from a ten-alarm fire to glowing embers. She would go into her next relationship with confidence and knowledge. Do not analyze why the image of her with another man makes you want to shatter the mirror on the gym wall with a dumbbell.
Even worse, churning around inside of him was the dark need to ruin Eliza for anyone else. The exact opposite of their agreement. He didn’t know where the compulsion came from or what it meant. He only knew it was there and it was powerful. It also made him a special brand of bastard.
He dropped the heavy dumbbell onto the mat between his feet and looked at himself in the mirror. Eliza didn’t like him…because she knew him. She wasn’t a girl at a party who he could buy a drink, say three words to, and take home the same night. They’d spent time together, she’d seen him with bad haircuts, heard him tell lame jokes. She called him playboy because that’s exactly what he’d proven himself to be. As a result, she wanted his expertise, but she didn’t want him.
In the mirror, he saw Eliza walk into the massive workout room. His heart started knocking so loudly against his ribs, he could hear the boom boom boom in his ears. Did she have to look so good? In black yoga pants and a hot pink sports bra, she turned every head in the room. He’d told her not to wear panties, but apparently she’d decided a shirt wouldn’t be necessary either. They would be having a discussion about that. Yes, they would. As she smoothed her hair back into a pony tail, her gaze trailed over the busy room, before landing on him. It felt unnatural not to send her his customary wink, but he gave no sign of recognition. She followed suit, heading toward the cardio area and climbing aboard one of the treadmills.
Oliver had already run his three miles for the day, but he definitely hadn’t worked off enough steam for this. Not enough to sit there and watch her breasts bounce with every footfall. To watch her thighs flex, her ass give that maddening little jiggle. Within seconds, he was restraining himself from dragging her off the machine and slapping that perfectly rounded ass until she screamed. She would deserve it too, because she knew what she was doing. He could tell by the sly smile playing around her lips. This was his scene, and she was trying to run it. Not going to happen.
Thanks to the urgency of his workout, he’d soaked his T-shirt with sweat. Keeping his gaze locked on Eliza, he drew it over his head and let it drop to the floor, laughing when her steps faltered on the treadmill. Good. She might want another man, but she couldn’t completely hide her attraction to him. If that’s all he had going for him, he would damn well use it.
Slowly and purposefully, he wove his way through the various machines and people exercising until he reached Eliza’s treadmill. She kept her eyes resolutely forward, but he knew she sensed him getting closer. He propped an elbow on the machine and waited for her to look at him.
“You should really stretch before you run.”
“Oh?” She looked down at him. “Are you a personal trainer here?”
Any other time, he would have made a joke. But right now, he wasn’t Oliver. She needed to be reminded. “I’m your personal trainer.” Knowing people were within earshot and not wanting to embarrass her, he lowered his voice but kept it firm. “Get off and let me stretch you. Now.”
He groaned under his breath when her nipples turned to hard points at the front of her sports bra. Such a swift reaction to his order. Anticipation gripped him at the thought of how quickly she’d respond to everything else he intended to do. She seemed to notice her visibly aroused state too, because she hit STOP on the treadmill and climbed off gracefully, crossing her arms over her chest.
Oliver laid a possessive hand on the small of her back and led her toward the back of the gym, feeling a surge of satisfaction when the men who’d checked her out on the way in averted their eyes now. That’s right. Mine.
When they reached the designated stretching area, he was glad to find it empty as usual. At this time of day, patrons consisted mostly of corporate guys who worked in the surrounding buildings, trading stocks. They stretched on the fly and got their workout completed fast, same way they did everything else. Today that worked to his advantage.
He walked Eliza until they stood directly in front of the mirrored wall, him positioned behind her, taller by at least a foot. Her light golden skin was flushed, from her cheeks down to the tops of her breasts. The lips he’d kissed less than twenty-four hours ago were swollen and parted, as if they were anticipating him. She watched his reflection steadily, but he could see the excitement there. It heightened his own.
“Hard limits,” he said, just beside her ear. “I’d like yours now.”
She pressed her lips together then released a pent-up breath. But she didn’t look surprised. Good. He loved knowing she’d expected, trusted, him to ask. “I don’t want other people with us.”
“Jesus. Me either, babe.”
Looking relieved, she nodded. “I like the idea of you…punishing me. But I don’t know what it’s like so I want to go slow. Until I know.”
“Nothing you can’t handle. You have my word.” He hooked an arm around her waist and drew her back, wanting her to feel his hard cock against her ass. “How do you feel about taking me here? Would it be the first time?”
“Yes,” she breathed, head dropping forward. “I think…I’m good with it. It’s you. I trust you.” Her eyes sparkled with lust and humor as they met his once more in the mirror. “I don’t know why, though, since we just met.”
It felt perfect, standing there holding her curves tightly against him. Hearing her say she trusted him. Watching her smile. Stop dwelling on how right it feels. You’re not for her. She’s not for you. She’s…for someone else. He watched in the mirror as his own slight grin faded. “Safe word.”
He heard her swallow. “Cookie.”
Holding himself back was going to be impossible when she was so fucking cute, but somehow, he’d have to do it. He had no choice. Trying his best to detach himself, he stepped back. “Palms flat on the floor.”
Her shoulders jumped a little, presumably over his new tone. “What?”
Oliver narrowed his eyes and waited. After considering his reflection for a few moments, she bent forward and did as she was told. He ground his teeth together as her ass rose in front of him like an offering, begging for his open hand, his belt, a crop. Later. She’s not ready yet. He positioned himself between her and the entrance, blocking her body just in case anyone decided to walk in. Then he hooked his fingers in the top of her tight, black pants and peeled them down over her ass.
Blood rushed south to his dick, making it swell painfully. Beautiful. The tops of her thighs flared gently leaving a hot little gap between her legs. Like they’d been molded to fit his hand. The sight of her pussy had him dragging a hand over his open mouth. She looked as smooth and tempting as he remembered her feeling last night. And he’d only felt her through those innocent white panties. Next time there wouldn’t be a barrier. How many times had he dreamed of seeing her on display for him like this? Apart from her accelerated breathing, she showed no signs of being uncomfortable. He smoothed a palm over the smooth skin, running a finger lightly down the center. “Panties are a waste of my time, Eliza. Don’t wear them again. When it comes to fucking you, I don’t appreciate obstacles.”
He traced the seam of her pussy with his knuckle, savoring her gasp. “Is that clear?”
“Yes.”
With a massive case of reluctance, he covered her ass. He almost laughed when she sighed in relief. They weren’t even close to finished. He wrapped her pony tail around his fist and drew her back up, meeting her glazed eyes in the mirror. Fuck yes, she loved this as much as he did. His little closeted submissive. “I told you no panties were allowed. Did I say anything about no shirt?” With his free hand, he tugged her sports bra up and over her breasts, revealing the sweetest pair of tits he’d ever seen. Firm handfuls, the color of peaches. Goddamn. What would they taste like? He almost lost it, forgetting what he’d been saying, but he forced himself back to the present. “I’m the only one who sees them,” he growled, meaning every word. “You keep them covered. For my eyes only. Understood?”
She tried to nod, but his grip on her hair was too tight. “Your eyes only.”
“Good.” He released her. “Get on your back. We’re not done stretching.”
This time, she only hesitated for a beat before doing as she was told. Better, but eventually he wanted her obeying without question. Dying to obey. She looked up at him from her position on the floor and he took a moment to enjoy the power of standing over her, controlling what happened next. It sizzled in his veins, spreading to every inch of his body. He knelt down between her thighs, watching the goose bumps break out along her flesh, her nipples beading tighter. Eliza needed a long, hard fuck. His instincts screamed at him to give it to her, but his mind won out.
He hooked a hand under her right knee and drew it up toward her shoulder. The action brought him directly over her, drawing her gaze to his bare chest. So much was taking place behind those big, brown eyes. Wonder, heat, need. Oh, babe. Hold on to your fucking seat. In one lightning fast motion, he threw her leg over his shoulder and bore down hard, pressing her knee against her shoulder. At the same time, his hips dropped into the cradle of her thighs and he rocked. Just once.