Taken

by Jennifer Dawson

  “If you want to hear it, I’ll tell you the problem. Because it’s plain as day to everyone, but you’re too close to recognize it.”

  The hair on the back of my neck pricks. I jerk my attention toward him. “What?”

  “She’s a submissive girl and she’s daring you to take control.”

  My heart starts to pound a frantic rhythm in my chest. “No, she’s curious. That’s not the same thing.”

  He laughs. “Brandon she’s begging you for it, and if it were anyone else, you’d see that.”

  I want to deny, it’s my last hope I can resist her. “You’re wrong.”

  “Think about it. If it was someone else, and you witnessed a girl acting like that, doing everything she can possibly think to incite a reaction, what would you say?”

  I know exactly what I’d say. I grit my teeth. “You don’t understand.”

  “What, because she works for you? So what?”

  That excuse is flimsier and flimsier. I look away. “No, that’s not it.”

  “Then what is it?”

  I’m silent for a long, long time and he waits me out, probably because he knows what I’m going to tell him. And finally, the pressure becomes too much, and I do. “I can’t control her.”

  He sighs. “That’s because you’re trying to control the wrong thing.”

  My gaze snaps to him.

  He gives me a small smile. “Stop fighting how you feel about her, and things will get easier.”

  Is he right? I frown. I take a deep breath and ask him another question. “Is she still a struggle?”

  He’s quiet for a second then he nods. “Yeah, she is.”

  That’s what I thought.

  He shrugs. “She’s still worth every single fucking second of it.”

  That’s what I’m afraid of.

  15

  Veronica

  I’d taken the next day off because it’s moving day. After what happened with Brandon last night, I can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. He’d avoided me for the rest of the night, and I let him because it seemed prudent to give him space.

  At least I’ll be too busy to think too much about the ramifications.

  I’m standing in the middle of the Gold Coast condo, decorated by my mother’s interior designer, filled with lavish furniture that’s supposed to belong to me, and I realize I don’t want any of it. None of it feels like me.

  I might not know who I am, or what I’m becoming, but I know it’s not this life.

  Living in a condo I didn’t earn, sitting on furniture picked out by someone else, surrounded by people that don’t know me.

  I look out the floor-to-ceiling windows that cover one wall, providing a picture-perfect view of the city and I’m nothing but relieved.

  I’m doing the right thing, moving to the small one-bedroom condo I can afford off my salary, it’s my path to freedom. I’ll miss the windows though, but it’s well worth it.

  My phone rings, and I run to get it from the end table. My heart about leaps into my throat as I see Brandon’s name on the screen. Last night, when he’d told me to go home, I’d searched his expression, looking for any clue of what he wanted from me, but he’d been unreadable.

  But here he is, calling me?

  The excitement is like a rush through my system. Be calm. It’s probably work, and only work. I press the call button and when I speak my voice is a bit too breathless. “Hello?”

  There’s a pause and even over the line tension crackles between us. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning.” My tongue feels thick in my mouth. I search for something to say, and settle on. “How’d the rest of the night go?”

  “Everything was good.”

  “I’m glad. It seemed like everyone had fun.”

  Awkward silence fills the line before he clears his throat. “You did a good job, Veronica. People respond to you, they like you and you’re very charming. Everyone who spoke to me raved about you.”

  Pleasure beats in my chest, he’s never commented on my performance since I started. “Thank you, I’m glad you’re happy.”

  “I’m not sure if hiring you is the best or worst mistake I’ve ever made.”

  I sit down on the couch. “You haven’t officially hired me yet, but you also haven’t fired me either.”

  “No, I haven’t. I’m not about to fire you because I can’t keep my hands off you. That’s hardly fair, is it?”

  I’m so surprised he’s brought up the attraction I can only suck in my breath.

  His voice lowers. “Several men asked if you were available.”

  I bite my lower lip. “What did you say?”

  “I said no.”

  His statement sits between us.

  “Oh…” I trail off, unsure what to say.

  “You’re moving today.”

  The change in subject has me straightening. “Yes.”

  Another tension-filled second pulses the air. “Do you want help?”

  I can’t be processing this right. I say stupidly, “From whom?”

  He laughs. “From me.”

  Slowly, I say, “You want to come help me move?”

  “No, I don’t. Moving is the last thing I want.”

  “What do you want?” The words shake, not from fear, but from lust. From hope.

  When he speaks his voice is low and husky. “What I want right at this moment is to come over there, rip off whatever you’re wearing, and without preamble, fuck you bare, with no condom.”

  “Oh.” My whole body heats and I gasp at the bluntness of his words.

  “And do you know why I want that?”

  “No.”

  “Because I want to claim your cunt for my own. And after, with my come dripping down your thighs, I want to spank you, then push you to the floor and take you again. I want to use you. Exhaust you. Bruise you. Mark you. I want your body sore, your mind empty, and for you to still feel my cock inside you tomorrow.”

  Oh. My. God. I lean back on the couch and close my eyes, wanting nothing but the sound of his voice in my ear.

  “Do you know the last time I wanted that from a woman, Veronica?”

  “No.” My voice is low and breathless, and even I can hear the plea in it.

  “Never.”

  “Oh.” I have no idea what to say and his confession has reduced me to monosyllables.

  “And you want that too.”

  It’s not a question, but I still respond. “Yes.”

  “The tension between us is going to get worse if we keep fighting it, but I can’t ignore the fact that we work together.”

  “I understand.”

  “Tell me, Veronica. What do you want?”

  “I want it all.” My answer immediate and absolute.

  “And what’s your definition of all?”

  I take a deep breath and blow it out. “I want you and the job.”

  There’s silence before he speaks, as though he’s thinking. “Here’s what I propose.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Other than wanting to fuck like our lives depend on it, we really don’t know each other that well. And right now the tension is clouding all our interactions, making it impossible to do anything but fight our attraction.”

  I smile, so relieved to hear him admit he’s struggling. “I agree.”

  “I propose we get to know each other, spend time together.”

  My heart thrills. “I’d really like that.”

  “Good. But there’s a catch.” He pauses and clears his throat. “I think sex should be off the table until we’re sure we have more in common than feeding our lust.”

  My mouth drops open and I sputter. “No sex?”

  He laughs. “I do like that the prospect sounds horrible to you.”

  “But… How?”

  He laughs again. “I figure we can fool around, and there will be orgasms, but as your boss, I don’t want to tie you to me sexually until we know each other better, until we’re m
ore sure. I thought this could be a compromise.”

  “When’s the last time you just fooled around with a woman?”

  “Besides last night when we dry fucked like teenagers?”

  Heat warms my belly. “Yes.”

  “I don’t know, probably eighth grade.”

  My brow furrows. “What’s changed? You seem more in control now.”

  “I am.”

  “Why?”

  “I accepted that no matter what I do I’m going to want you. And I accepted that you scare me.”

  “I do?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t like not having control over my desires.”

  “I think there’s more.”

  Three beats pass before he says, “Maybe. Someday, maybe I’ll tell you, but today’s not that day.”

  “That’s fair.” But I still want to know more. “If I don’t want to pursue this? Then what?”

  “Then we will go on working together and I will make sure the projects you work on don’t put us in close proximity. Is that what you want?”

  “No, it’s not. I needed to hear what you’d say.”

  “Understandable. Anything else?”

  I clear my throat. “What about…the other thing?”

  “You mean my wanting to have control over you? Own you. Dominate you?”

  I flush and I’m thankful he can’t see me. “Yes, that.”

  “The truth is, I don’t know yet. Is that something you want?”

  I’m obsessed with thinking about it, imagining it, reading about it. “I…don’t know.”

  “You have no experience with it.”

  “Right.”

  “And I have no experience without it.”

  I blink. “Really?”

  “Really. It’s always been there, even before I had a name for it.”

  “How do you mean?”

  He chuckles. “You remember when you were a kid and you’d play cops and robbers, or princess in a tower where the hero prince comes to the rescue?”

  “Yes.”

  “I always wanted to be the villain, holding the princess captive.”

  I swallow hard. “Oh.”

  “It’s not something that’s ever going to go away for me, and I’m not sure how easy it will be for me to keep in check, especially when you’re being a brat.”

  A huge smile breaks across my lips. “I am not a brat.”

  “Veronica, you are the very definition of a brat.” His voice drops. “I’m just dying for a chance to put you in your place.”

  I let out a little gasp. “Okay.”

  He laughs. “Back to the point. I’ll try and keep it in check as we figure this thing out, but you should always be aware that for me, it’s not icing, it’s the cake. It’s part of sex for me and I don’t know how to turn it off. So if we end up fucking, that’s going to be part of it.”

  “All right.” I scrape my teeth over my bottom lip. “How will I know without experience?”

  “Good point. We have two choices—and the decision is yours to make—we can either completely take it off the table while we’re…” He pauses. “I have no idea what to call it.”

  “Dating?” My fingers tighten on my phone.

  “God help me.”

  I laugh. “It’s not that terrible. What’s the other choice?”

  “I can give you a taste of it while we’re—” he sighs “—dating.”

  I cluck my tongue. “Poor baby, I know it’s a real hardship.”

  “Veronica?”

  “Yes?”

  “Brat.”

  I smile. “Maybe a little.”

  “A lot.”

  Silence hangs in the air before he says, “What’s your choice? Or do you need to think about it?”

  I know what I want; it’s not even a question. “I want the real you, not the watered-down version.”

  “I should warn you it will make our…dating much more intense.”

  “I don’t care.” I lick my lips. “I’m not looking for tame, I’m looking to live.”

  “Veronica?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’ll be over in thirty minutes to help you move.”

  This is the last thing I expected today, and it’s the happiest surprise I’ve had in a long time. Somehow, I have no idea how, but I’m dating Brandon Townsend III, and he’s helping me move. Even though he doesn’t want to. Even though it’s against his better judgment, he’s conceding.

  I smile. “I’ll see you soon.”

  * * *

  Brandon

  Veronica opens the door to her condo and we stand there, our gazes locked, unable to move. She’s wearing worn cutoffs, a pink tank top, her hair in a ponytail and no makeup. She looks adorable and so fuckable I get hard just standing here.

  She smiles and says breathlessly, “Hi.”

  “Hi.” Somewhere in the wee hours of the morning, after catching a buzz with Michael, I gave up the fight and admitted I wanted her too much to stop. That I didn’t want to stop. I’m not sure of my solution, but it seemed a reasonable course of action.

  Her pink tongue flicks over her lower lip. “Thanks for helping me.”

  My gaze rakes over her. “You don’t have anyone else helping?”

  She laughs and it shoots straight through me. “Well, movers, of course. But do you actually think the people we know would help me move?”

  “Good point.” I shift my attention to the space behind her. “Are you going to let me in?”

  “Oh, sorry.” She stands back.

  Maybe we talked. Maybe we made some decisions, but it’s still awkward as hell. The air is filled with tension. It’s a novel situation for me. I’ve been cool and collected for so long I’m ill equipped to handle raw, nervous sexual tension. I have no idea what to do about the fact that I itch to touch her and am uncertain of my ability to not lose control and rip her shorts off and impale her.

  What worries me is it’s not sex. It’s the way I want the sex from her. I want to fuck her, not to relieve the ache in my cock, but as a brand. I want to come on her, in her, to mark her as my territory.

  It’s about possession. Not control.

  This…need for her, clouding my judgment, is something I have no experience with and don’t like, but the more I try and control it the harder it becomes. So I’m taking Michael’s advice and seeing what happens.

  She tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I’m not sure I like the way you’re looking at me.”

  Her words snap me from my thoughts. I walk over the threshold and the door closes behind me. I turn to face her. “How am I looking at you?”

  She takes a stuttery little breath. “Like you want to have me for lunch.”

  “I do.” I meet her honey-brown eyes. “I don’t trust myself with you.”

  “I don’t trust myself with you either.”

  “I don’t enjoy the feeling.”

  She flashes a smile. “I guess that’s where we’re different. I do.”

  I take three steps toward her and she presses herself against the wall.

  That she subconsciously prepares herself to be taken by me is like a drug rushing through my system, feeding me, giving me strength and centering me. I stalk closer, cornering her, trapping her.

  Her breath comes fast as her pupils dilate.

  A primal satisfaction cuts through me like a knife. I put my hands on either side of her head. “Why’s that?”

  She tilts her chin up. “You’re the first person I’ve ever really wanted.”

  I growl low in my throat, dip down and scrape my teeth against her jaw. I mean to say something cocky and arrogant, but instead whisper harshly into her ear, “Me too.”

  The tiny, needy gasp she gives me is my undoing.

  My mouth covers hers. Hard and brutal.

  I don’t understand what she does to my brain, because kissing Veronica is like nothing on earth. With most women, I kiss for precision, to elicit a react
ion from her, but this is nothing like that. It’s like I can’t take her mouth ruthlessly enough.

  My tongue sweeps in as her hands slide around my neck. She moans against me. I grip her ponytail, holding her still while I treat her mouth like I’m going to treat her body.

  Hard.

  Relentless.

  Possessive and claiming.

  She responds by trying to climb up me, plastering her long, lean body against mine. Her leg comes up. I grip her bare thigh, bending and rocking my cock along her soft center. Her shoulders hit the wall, giving me leverage, and her legs lock around my hips. I thrust, and she meets me, stroke for stroke. It’s like last night all over again, crazy and out of control, the lust pounding through me as our bodies strain and surge.

  And she’s right. I feel alive.

  It’s like craving something I hadn’t known I was looking for. Hadn’t known I needed and wanted, but now am hungry for. It steadies me. Makes me want more for her than me rutting against her like an animal.

  I rip away, look behind me, spotting the couch.

  Her legs loosen. Shaking my head, I grip her under the ass. “Don’t move.”

  She bites her lip, nodding.

  I swing her around, walk to the couch before sitting down with her on top of me. Her legs come from around my waist and settle next to me.

  I grip her hips. “Stand up and take off your shorts.”

  Her expression flashes, and she starts to speak, but I cut her off. “Just do what you’re told.”

  Her pupils dilate and I can see her questions.

  I squeeze her hips. “Don’t argue with me.”

  She sucks in a breath and slowly stands. With trembling fingers she unbuttons her shorts, and they drop to the floor.

  Lust runs thick and hot in my blood, and my lids grow heavy. I flick my attention to her panties. “Those too.”

  She hooks her thumbs into her white cotton underwear and shimmies them down her long legs. I crook my finger, beckoning her to me and she looks at me hesitantly before straddling me.

  I stare at her bare cunt, lick my lips before slipping my palms along her thighs. I shake my head. “So fucking gorgeous.”

  She flushes.

  “Are you wet?”

  She nods.

  “Show me.”

  She dips between her legs and rubs her clit in a slow circle.