Crave You (Crave #1)

by Ryan Parker

  I looked up at the storefront. “We’re going to a bookstore? Is this your favorite place or something?”

  Finn turned the car off and as he was getting out, he said, “Or something.”

  He walked around to my side, opened the door, and I stood. I looked at the door and saw the sign. “It’s closed.”

  “Yep.” He was moving toward the door, and it was then that I noticed he was fumbling with his key ring.

  “You’ve got to be kidding,” I said. “You own this place?”

  He unlocked the door and swung it open. “Sure do.”

  “Sales. You always told me sales. You sell books.”

  “And buy,” he said.

  An old woman approached the door holding a plastic shopping bag full of what appeared to be paperbacks.

  “Sorry,” Finn told her. “Closed for the day. We’ll be open Monday.”

  The old woman huffed and shuffled away.

  “That wasn’t nice,” I said.

  He turned on the lights. “Today, this is all yours.”

  I looked around. Aisle after aisle of books. Mostly paperbacks, some hardbacks. All older looking, definitely used. All meticulously lined up on the shelves. A maze of shelves I could see myself getting lost in for hours.

  Aside from that, the first thing I noticed was how cold it was. “Does this place double as a walk-in freezer?”

  Finn smiled. “Air conditioning helps keep the humidity down. Any kind of moisture can ruin a book, especially older ones. You know, your eyes are very big right now, and you’re not blinking. Should I rent a U-Haul for the drive back?”

  I started toward the first aisle. “Very funny.”

  “Go ahead,” he said, “look around. Take whatever you want.”

  I took my time browsing. Finn followed me throughout the store as if he were security and I was a suspected thief. But I knew what he was really up to—he enjoyed watching me get a thrill out of finding books that interested me. And after the way things had been going since last night, I didn’t want him far away at all, anyway.

  But after a little while, Finn told me to browse around and he’d come find me.

  It would have been very easy to lose control and let myself become greedy. So many books. I imagined them on my shelves, perched up there waiting for me, worlds of new places to visit and people to meet.

  I spent about thirty minutes browsing. As I looked around I thought about how wonderful it would be to have a job like this and how lucky Finn was to have it. He loved reading just as much as I did, and I could only imagine the enjoyment he got from being surrounded by books all day.

  I selected a few titles, ones I’d been looking for online but couldn’t find. I decided to stop with what I had and a few minutes later I found Finn behind the counter, looking at something on the desktop computer.

  “What are those?” I asked, startling him. “Oh, sorry.”

  “What are what?” he asked, looking a little confused.

  I pointed at the books behind the counter. There must have been at least fifty of them, all in a locked glass case.

  “Rare books.” He spun around on his stool and unlocked the glass door, taking out one of the books. “This is a first edition of Bram Stoker’s Dracula.” He put it on the counter between us.

  “Wow, where did you get this?”

  The book had been facing Finn, but he spun it around toward me as he answered. “A guy came in about…two years ago, I think. And I bought it from him for eight-thousand. I can probably get ten for it.”

  “Holy shit, are you serious?”

  Finn chuckled. “That’s nothing.” He picked up the book and placed it back in the case. Turning to face me, he said, “Those are actually the inexpensive rare books. I have others in a safe in the back.”

  I was fascinated by what he was telling me, but I was also doing a quick inventory of my own books, wondering if I had any that were worth some good money. The next thing he said broke me out of that short-lived daydream, though.

  “I’ll let you in on a little secret. I have a first edition of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland that’s worth about twenty-thousand, and a first edition of War And Peace that could probably sell for over thirty-five grand.”

  “So that’s where the store really makes its money?”

  He shook his head. “No, it’s from the smaller sales. The big ones don’t happen very often.”

  I noticed a vase with flowers on the counter and it brought back a memory: the rose I had found on my doorstep that night he had left so suddenly from the hotel room. I knew he hadn’t left it for me, and I had already reasoned the other possibilities, but it made me wish it had been from him.

  He finally noticed the books I was holding. “Are you finished browsing?”

  I nodded, looking at the few books in my arms.

  His brow furrowed. “That’s it?”

  “For now,” I said, hoping that I’d find myself in this store many times in the future. I reached into my purse. “Let me pay you for these.”

  Finn just shook his head.

  “I can’t just take them.”

  His eyes had gone back to the computer screen. In a flat, matter-of-fact tone he asked, “Why not?”

  I looked at the ones I’d picked out. “These have to be at least, what, thirty dollars?”

  He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. You want them, they’re yours. I take whatever I want. It’s a perk of the job and I’m extending it to you.”

  “A friends and family discount thing?” I smiled at him, thinking I’d made a pretty decent joke.

  He looked up from the screen but his expression didn’t change. “Is that what we are?”

  “What, friends?”

  “Either one.”

  We certainly weren’t family, so I didn’t know what he meant by that. But were we friends? I guess that could have been the case. Yes, we’d had sex a few times, and while I wished our relationship was more than just friends, the truth was that friends did that all the time.

  I didn’t have an answer. I was kind of hoping he would provide one. So I stood there silently.

  Finally, after a long ten seconds or so, he spoke. “We don’t have to answer that right now. All that matters is that you’re here. I’m glad you are.”

  He stood and came around the counter to stand in front of me. He put his hand to my cheek and held my face still as he began kissing me slowly and softly, his tongue feathering across my lips.

  He stopped, resting his forehead against mine.

  “What’s wrong?” I said, wanting him to kiss me again. Wanting him to kiss me forever, actually.

  “I have to stop.” Our eyes were just inches apart, locked in an unblinking stare, and I was terrified by what he might say next. “If I don’t stop, then this...” he tugged on my shirt, “is going come off, and these…” his hand dropped down to the front of my pants and he grabbed the button, “are going to be off, and you…” he kissed my mouth hard, greedily, then gently took my lower lip between his teeth before letting it go and saying, “you are going to be perched on this countertop with your gorgeous legs spread and with my cock inside you.”

  Chapter Eighteen (Finn)

  My intention wasn’t to stop at all. I wanted to see her reaction to my stopping and to my words. And I got just what I was looking for.

  It was that look in her eyes that I’d seen that night in the hotel, and that I’d seen again last night. It was a longing look of wanting me, needing me. It was a look I had deliberately tried to evoke with my words just moments ago, knowing all too well what it would lead to.

  I wouldn’t be able to leave that store without fucking her.

  I can’t say it was a spontaneous thought. I’d been thinking about it all day, ever since we woke up and I decided I would bring her to my store. As we’d gotten dressed earlier, I’d grabbed that third condom off her nightstand and put it in my pocket.

  Rachel looked surprised when I produced it. She had been placing h
er handful of books down on the counter, and she did a double-take when she saw me holding it up.

  “You didn’t think I’d be unprepared, did you?”

  The corner of her mouth turned up in a knowing grin. “I would never…”

  I lifted her up and put her on the counter, grabbing her leg and wrapping it around the backs of my thighs. “I don’t think I can get enough of you.”

  She put her hands on my chest and pushed when I tried to lean in to kiss her.

  “Wait,” she said. “Do you remember that email you wrote about how you liked to watch a woman’s reaction?”

  She didn’t get any more specific than that. She didn’t have to. “Of course.”

  Rachel moved off the counter and stood, looking up at me. “I want that. I want you to see my reaction.”

  We were standing less than a foot apart. Without breaking eye-contact, I reached for her wrist and brought her hand to the front of my pants. Her eyebrows moved slightly up her forehead and her lips parted.

  “That’s a good first reaction.”

  She bit her lip and I thought I saw the hint of a blush taking over her face.

  I stepped around her, went behind the counter and removed the seat cushion from the chair, before leaning back on my counter, ankles crossed. “I can’t see your reaction until you start.” I dropped the cushion on the floor before me.

  She stepped toward me, putting her face against my chest. “I want to do it how you like it.” I felt her hands start to unbuckle my belt, and I stopped her.

  “Just the zipper,” I said.

  My pulse picked up as I was curious to see how she did it, what her technique was. All women do it differently. Some better than others. But there’s no such thing as a bad blowjob.

  She kissed me as she worked the zipper down and freed my cock. I grew hard and heavy in her hands as our tongues twisted wildly together.

  Rachel knelt on the cushion, stroking me and watching her hand as it moved back and forth along the length of my shaft.

  I watched her hand, too, but mostly I watched her face as she played with me. Her lips were pressed tightly together, as if teasing me, making me wonder how long they’d stay so firmly closed.

  I reached down and took my cock from her, gripping it at the base. My other hand went to the top of her head, and I guided her head closer to me with my fingertips on her scalp.

  Those lips—pretty and pouty—weren’t opening for me yet, so I touched them with the head of my cock. I moved it back and forth across her mouth, painting her with the little bead of moisture that had formed at the tip when she was playing with me.

  After a few moments like this, she looked up and her lips parted beautifully for me. Her tongue touched the tip of my cock as she held eye contact. Opening wider, she drew the head into her mouth, and I dropped my hand to my side. I felt the warmth close around me as she sucked a little, using her tongue to tease the very tip.

  Her hand moved to the base of my cock, not stroking, but holding with just the right amount of pressure.

  The visuals are always what push me over the edge. Yes, the physical pleasure is integral, but there’s nothing like the sight of a woman wrapping her lips around my cock and taking her time as she surrenders her mouth to me.

  Which is exactly what Rachel was doing now—opening her mouth a little more, taking more of me, encasing my cock with the growing heat and wetness of her mouth.

  I reached down and took her wrist, moving her hand away.

  “Let me have the other one,” I said, and she raised her arm.

  I brought her hands to my sides, pinning them down to the counter on either side of me.

  “I like it when you just use your mouth,” I said.

  She tried to murmur something, but I couldn’t tell what it was, nor did I care. I could tell it was something positive, maybe just a sound affirming what I told her.

  Rachel was moving a little faster now, her plump lips sliding up and down my shaft. My cock glistened from the mixture of her spit and my pre-come.

  Watching her move like that…Jesus, I could have stayed there all day.

  I was intently focused on watching her lips slide slowly toward the tip, and she sucked hard, pulling back, freeing my cock with a wet pop sound.

  Her long blonde hair fell in her face just then. I reached out with one hand, gathering as much of it as I could in my fist, then held it together.

  “I need to see your gorgeous face as you do this,” I said.

  “My damn hair’s so long. Sorry.”

  “Not at all. It makes a good handle.”

  She smiled that perfect smile of hers as she looked at my erection, and I couldn’t have handled one more second of not being in her mouth. I moved her head back to my cock, sliding between her lips once more. Holding onto her hair, I didn’t have to direct her movement. She swirled her tongue around the head, then took me back in with one swift motion.

  Moving faster than before, her head bobbing up and down. The friction of her lips sliding along my skin combined with her sucking…it was getting too intense to think. Though I did feel her teeth lightly graze across the swollen tip of my cock, which I didn’t mind and even encouraged on occasion.

  Moments later, the visual got me. “I’m going to come,” I said.

  I held off on telling her that I wanted to come in her mouth. I wanted to see what she would do on her own—pull away and use her hand or stay where she was and take my come in her mouth?

  I let go of her hair. Luckily, it stayed out of her face, giving me a perfect view as she locked her lips around my cock as I came.

  “Ah, Rachel, fuck…” I said as my stomach muscles clenched along with my thighs, as if being wound up for a big release.

  Her eyes got big and she blinked rapidly a few times, closing them as I came more.

  When it was clear that I had finished, she tucked me back into my pants, zipped me up, and said, “I know you don’t want to kiss me right—”

  I reached for the back of her head, pulling her close to me, kissing her deeply.

  . . . . .

  “I can’t believe you went six months without telling me you owned a bookstore.”

  She was standing beside me on the sidewalk as I locked the door. I shrugged. “Putting aside what just happened in there, I have a lot of self-control.”

  She laughed and grabbed my arm as we walked to the car.

  We had spent another fifteen or so minutes inside. Most of it was spent with me urging Rachel to take more books, but she declined. I didn’t force the issue. I knew she’d be back here.

  “How far do you live from here?” she asked, buckling her seatbelt.

  Goddamn. She was about to start with the one line of questioning I had hoped wouldn’t come up today. Wishful thinking. She was making me sloppy in my judgment lately.

  “About ten minutes.” I started the car and looked out the driver’s side window to see the oncoming traffic but also to keep from having to let her see my face.

  “Is that where we’re going next? I’d love to see where you live.”

  “Not today,” I said, my face close to the window. “Sorry. It’s just a mess and my cleaners don’t come until Monday.”

  She didn’t say anything in response as I pulled the car away from the curb.

  I put my hand on her knee. “Soon. I promise.” I glanced over to see her nodding, but looking disappointed.

  I never let anyone into my house. Had I planned this day better, I would have done a sweep through the place, making sure I didn’t have anything lying around that would look suspicious. A file, a stack of photos, an unopened disposable phone I hadn’t used yet…it could have been any one or more of those things that forced me to tell her the truth about my life.

  I wasn’t ready for that.

  She couldn’t have been, either.

  Chapter Nineteen (Rachel)

  I didn’t want to push him and risk a repeat of him shutting down like he’d done in the hotel room
that night. Yes, I was eager to know more about him. To know everything about him, in fact, and seeing where he lived would have been great.

  But I knew all too well about the desire to keep parts of your life secret. I wanted so badly to know what it was about Finn’s life that necessitated his cloak of privacy. I gave him the benefit of the doubt, mostly out of respect for his space, but also out of fear of pushing him away again.

  He drove us back to Washington, where we stopped at a deli, got some sandwiches, fruit, and drinks.

  “Show me your bench,” he said, sliding his sunglasses on.

  “My bench…”

  “Where you have lunch everyday and read my emails. I’d like to see it.”

  We were standing on the sidewalk in front of the deli, a block or so from the National Mall. Finn held our lunch in a cardboard box.

  “I know what you meant,” I said. “I just wasn’t expecting it.”

  I showed him the way to the bench, and I was surprised to find it unoccupied. Groups of people used the vast expanse of grass to play touch football, sometimes Frisbee, and the sidewalks were jammed with joggers and groups of tourists.

  Finn looked around as I unpacked the box. “Nice views,” he said. “All around. I can see why you picked this spot.”

  I handed him a sandwich. “Actually, it was just random.”

  “Right. Because you’re always looking down at a screen.”

  I shrugged, opening a cold bottle of tea. “It’s 2014. We’re all looking at screens. That’s our brave new world, three-hundred-and-however-many pixels per inch at a time.”

  Finn let out a little chuckle. “Cynical.”

  “It’s true,” I said. “But, in my defense, I spend a good amount of time looking at pages, too. Real ones, not ebook pages, thank you very much.”

  “Don’t get me started,” he said. But it seems that I already had, as Finn launched into an impassioned defense of physical books. His thoughts on the issue matched mine exactly.