What He Craves

by Tawny Taylor

  “That’s probably my fault.” I motioned to the living room. “Please, sit.”

  I needed to be upfront. Honest. Clearly Drake had expected something to happen tonight that I wasn’t ready for.

  I waited until he was seated on the couch before I joined him. I left a comfortable amount of space between us. “I…I’ve been seeing someone.”

  His whole demeanor changed. “Oh. Once again, here we are...”

  “It’s not serious. I mean, we haven’t…it isn’t a committed relationship or anything. Yet.” At his silence, I felt compelled to keep explaining, “But you know me. I’m not the kind of girl who even casually dates two men at the same time.”

  “Yes, that’s one of the things I respected most about you.” His chilly mien warmed slightly. “I suppose I should’ve asked you more direct questions before I started making plans for our future.”

  “At least we cleared it up now.”

  “Yes.” His lips formed something resembling a smile. But the expression was empty. “We cleared it up.” He stood. “I’d better get going.” Moving swiftly, he headed for the door.

  I followed. “It was really nice seeing you again. Despite everything, I’d like to keep in touch.”

  At the door, he turned, lifted a hand, cupping my cheek. I froze. Something wouldn’t let me pull away from his touch. Guilt, perhaps, for leading him on. You’re only going to make it worse, dummy.

  “Sure. We’ll keep in touch.” Something flashed in his eyes. He snatched his hand away, pulled open the door and left without saying goodbye.

  What a mess I’d made.

  Standing at the door, I watched him go. As he ambled down the front walk, he turned to the side, pausing for a minute. Following the direction of his gaze, I squinted into the darkness, trying to discern what he was looking at. Whatever it was--an animal, maybe?--it failed to hold his attention for long. He turned his focus back to his car, parked in my driveway. A minute later I was watching it zoom away.

  I shut the door and locked it and headed into my kitchen for something to drink.

  It had been a bad idea to call Drake. Really bad. What a strange, awkward, uncomfortable night. Digging in my refrigerator, I found a bottle of wine Jill had left. I poured myself a glass.

  Someone knocked on my door.

  Drake?

  I set the glass on my coffee table and went to check. Because it was late, I peered through the peephole, rather than opening the door.

  Shane.

  Shane?

  As I was peeking, he knocked on the door again. His expression was grim, his brows pulled together.

  I opened the door, and he charged inside, shoving the door shut behind his back. “Why didn’t you take my calls?” he demanded. “And who the hell was that?”

  Chapter 6

  I was fuming. Absolutely livid. How dare this man come barging into my home late at night and demand to be told who I was spending time with.

  Making sure he saw I was furious, I glared at him. “That’s none of your business.”

  “Of course it’s my business.”

  I narrowed my eyes even more. “Since when?”

  “Since when? What the hell is wrong with you? What’s going on?”

  “Why don’t you tell me?”

  “What are you talking about? I’ve had no women at my place late at night. What are you suggesting?”

  I took a moment to breathe. When I felt like I wasn’t going to pass out, I said, “My friend took me out to dinner because I lost my job--“

  His eyes bulged. “You what?”

  “We saw you. With the bitch from the charity thing. Alexis.”

  “You lost your job?” he repeated.

  “That’s not the point. I. Saw. You.” I poked his chest. “With. Her.”

  “There’s an explanation for that.” He crossed his arms over himself and angled his head. “We weren’t on a date.”

  “Of course there’s an explanation. There’s always an explanation.”

  “No, really. There is an explanation. She’s the chairperson of another charity. We’re working on a fundraising event--“

  “Right.” I waved my hand and shoved past him.

  “Really.” He grabbed my wrist and forced me around.

  I glared. Hard. Jerked my wrist out of his grip. “Don’t touch me.”

  “I’m telling the truth, Bristol. Alexis is organizing a fundraiser--“

  “That wasn’t what was really going on. She wants you. Don’t you see that? She’ll do or say anything to spend time with you.” I smacked my forehead with the palm of my hand. “Really? Are all men so gullible?”

  “I’m not gullible,” he spat. “And you’re changing the subject.”

  “No.” I shook a finger at him. “You’re the one changing the subject. I’m talking about you seeing other women.”

  “I’m not ‘seeing’ anyone.”

  “Anyone. Not me, either. You got that right.” Feeling tears burning my eyes, I stomped away.

  Of course, being the overbearing bastard that he was, he grabbed my arm to keep me from getting too far. While I fought him, he pulled me into an embrace.

  I tried not to snuggle up to him. I really did. But it felt so good to be held. And even better to be reassured.

  “I swear, I didn’t touch Alexis. Not a hair on her head. Nothing. We were discussing the fundraiser, nothing more. I understand she wants more, but there won’t ever be anything intimate between us. Never. Not even if you were to tell me to get lost tomorrow.”

  I didn’t want to believe his words.

  Yes, yes I did.

  No, I didn’t.

  Shit.

  I closed my eyes and listened to the deep thump-wump of his heartbeat. The steady beat soothed me.

  “I’ll give you a job. Come work for me,” he said.

  Dammit. Now what? If I worked for him, I’d have to be around him all the time. That could go either way, depending upon how things were between us. Already, our…relationship…was rocky. Would the added stress of working together make things worse? “That’s a bad idea.”

  “I’d never hold your job over your head, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “You wouldn’t have to.”

  “Dammit.” He angled back slightly, lifted my chin. “I want to help you. Let me.”

  I turned my head. If I looked at him, I would soften. I knew it. “I don’t know.”

  “You need help.”

  He was right about that. I did. I’d tried finding something on my own. Tried and failed.

  But taking a job working for a man I was dating was a bad idea. Really bad.

  Maybe I could take something temporarily? Until I could find something else?

  That might work.

  Or not.

  “I don’t know anything about what you do,” I said. “What kind of job could you give me?”

  “I’ll find something. We’re always looking for intelligent people with a good head on their shoulders.” He massaged my shoulders. I could feel the tension draining from my body, and with it, my willpower. “I’ll let you know what openings we have, and then you can decide whether you’d like to apply.”

  “But--“

  “You won’t necessarily have to work directly under me.” He grasped my chin again, forcing me to look him in the eye. “Nobody has to know about our personal…relationship.”

  “But--“

  “And if you decide you’d rather remain…” he visibly swallowed. “…friends at any point in the future, then your job would never be in jeopardy.”

  My belly twisted. “I don’t know.”

  “I’ll call you.” He cupped my cheeks and bent down, kissing me softly, gently, sweetly. “And I’m sorry for busting in here like a raging bull. Very sorry. I guess I got a little jealous.”

  “You surprised me.”

  “I’m such a bastard sometimes.” Stepping back, he shook his head. “Who the hell did I think I was? We’re not marr
ied.”

  “Drake’s an old friend--”

  “Don’t.” He pressed a fingertip to my lips. “You don’t owe me an explanation. We never talked about…about you seeing other people. You’re free to see whomever you like.”

  “Sure, but--“

  “It’s probably smart in your case not to get too close to a bastard like me. I’m more trouble than I’m worth.” He looked at me, his eyes shadowed.

  “You’re not trouble.”

  “You don’t know me well enough to say that yet. Give me time, and I’ll prove to you exactly how fucked up I am. Trust me.” He took my hand in his, gave it a squeeze.

  I glanced down at our joined hands then up into his eyes.

  He genuinely believed what he was saying. He really did feel like he was fucked up, trouble, heartache.

  Jill would agree with him.

  Me, I was torn. A part of me believed it too. That part of me was afraid to get too close because I didn’t want to be hurt. That part of me was looking for reasons to cut things off before they got too serious.

  But another part of me wanted to understand this man, to break through the wall enclosing his heart, and find out what he was hiding.

  What would it cost me to shatter his defenses?

  Was I willing to pay the price?

  “Goodnight, Bristol,” he said, tipping his head toward the door. “I’m going to leave now.”

  I watched him grab the doorknob, twist it, pull. “Wait.”

  He turned to look at me. His eyes were full of emotion. Dark emotion. The shadows terrified me. “Bristol. Let me walk out this door now.”

  “But what you said, about yourself--“

  “It’s true.” He sounded so beaten down. “Look at the way I acted tonight. Look at all the confusion and hurt I’ve caused you already.”

  “You acted no worse than I have. I was jealous. I jumped to conclusions.”

  “You didn’t follow me around town.”

  “You followed me?”

  He nodded. “I told you, I’m…” He closed his eyes and sighed. “I don’t just want to touch you. I don’t just want to kiss you. I crave you. With every cell in my body.” As he was speaking, he was coming closer, and every cell in my body was responding to him.

  He stopped within inches of me, looking down at my face, his expression intense. “The second you’re out of my sight, I miss you.” He reached for me, but before his fingertip made contact, he yanked it back and jerked away. “I am going to tear your heart apart, Bristol.”

  I didn’t want to be hurt. I didn’t want to feel the way I did now, either. Confused and sad, longing to be in his arms. If I was thinking clearly, I would have let him leave.

  If.

  He grabbed the door again, and I whimpered.

  Twisting around, he took another look at me and slammed it shut. Then he charged at me, hauled me off my feet, and slammed his mouth on mine. The kiss was wild. Lips and tongue crushing, possessing, staking a claim. I surrendered to his need willingly, kissing him back as he carried me to my bedroom. I fell onto the bed, and he went with me, catching himself on outstretched arms. He pulled my lower lip into his mouth, nipping it gently. He then groaned and angled upward so he was kneeling over me, spread knees straddling my legs.

  “Bristol, say the word. Say red,” he commanded.

  I shook my head. “No.”

  He grabbed my shirt in his fists. “Please.”

  “No.”

  He ripped the material, and I gasped. A blaze swept through my body.

  “Say the word,” he growled.

  “Green.” I arched my back, pushing my aching breasts up. “Green.”

  He flattened his hands over them, kneading their softness through my bra, and I moaned as a ripple of pleasure pulsed between my legs.

  More. I wanted more. Despite my fear. Despite my confusion.

  He pulled my bra cup down and pinched one nipple between his finger and thumb.

  “Yes,” I whispered as my body tensed. Arms. Legs. Stomach.

  Shane had said he craved me. I had no doubt he was telling the truth. But what he didn’t know was that I craved him too. His kiss. His touch. His possession.

  “Arms up,” he demanded.

  I did what he said, lifting them over my head.

  He reached under me, unhooked my bra and wrapped it around my wrists, binding them.

  The sensation of being tied, trapped beneath him made me writhe with need. A burning ache pounded between my legs, and my tissues clenched, damp heat slicking the insides of my thighs.

  He bent over me, nibbled my earlobe. He audibly inhaled. “I’m not going to let you make me lose control this time.” His hand glided down my stomach. I stared into his eyes and he reached lower, lower, between my thighs. “Say the word, Bristol.”

  “Green.”

  He kicked his leg over, kneeling beside me. “You’re so damn beautiful.” His jaw was tense as he shoved my skirt up. His gaze dropped. His eyes darkened. “Dammit.”

  I parted my legs, bending my knees, spreading myself for him.

  He gritted his teeth, ripped the scrap of material out from between my legs and cupped my ass, lifting it. With tongue and teeth, he tormented my sensitive tissues, my labia, my clit. I thrashed and moaned and cried and begged but he didn’t stop, he wouldn’t take me. Wouldn’t fill me.

  I needed him inside me, needed his thick length stroking away the overwhelming burning.

  His tongue dipped inside, but that small invasion wasn’t enough. It added to the torment instead of easing it. I could barely breathe. I was burning all over. Muscles trembling. Skin on fire.

  I was about to combust when he yanked his pants down and thrust inside.

  “Look at me,” he said, sounding as breathless as I was. He was seated deep inside me now. He was holding completely still, stretching my tissues, the tip of his cock pushing at the entry of my womb.

  I opened my eyes and stared up into his. They were hard, piercing.

  If I could have, I would have touched his face, stroked his jaw.

  “Shane,” I whispered as my insides tightened around him. I rocked my hips taking him as deeply as I could as he withdrew and then shoved inside again. His rhythm was fast and hard. And my body responded. This was what I’d needed. This was what I’d craved.

  “My master,” I murmured as I surrendered to his claiming. “Do what you will.”

  He held me in place with one hand, keeping me from sliding as he pounded into me. With the other, he caressed my clit. ‘Round and ‘round that fingertip went, and inside me a whirling blaze built, bigger, hotter. My senses amplified. Sounds louder, smells so intense I could taste them. The huff of our breaths and the sharp slap of skin meeting skin filled my ears. The scent of his skin and our blended need filled my nose. I was soaring, quaking, pulsing, writhing, on the verge. On the edge.

  “Come, Bristol. Come now.” He pressed hard on my clit and the pressure sent a blade of erotic heat slicing through me. I exploded. My inner muscles spasmed around him, squeezing rhythmically. He halted, growled and then began thrusting harder, faster, driving his length into me until we were both shaking from exhaustion.

  When he withdrew, I felt empty. For just a moment. Until he untied my wrists, lay beside me, and pulled me into his arms.

  “Bristol,” he whispered. “I crave you. Day and night. Every minute. Every hour. Make it stop. I can’t live like this.”

  “Shane,” I whispered, rolling on my side to face him, “I don’t know if I want it to stop.”

  The End

  * * * * *

  The Favor of a Review

  Reviews, ratings and comments are much appreciated. If you’ve enjoyed my story, I welcome you to share your thoughts with friends on Twitter and Facebook. I read all the reviews of my books and love to hear what readers have to say. If you have a moment, I would be grateful for your time. My sincerest thank you.

  *****

  Please turn the page for a s
pecial sneak preview of DARKEST DESIRE, the second book in my Black Gryffon series.

  An Excerpt From: DARKEST DESIRE

  Copyright © TAWNY TAYLOR, 2012

  All Rights Reserved, Kensington Publishing Corp.

  Beautiful.

  Exquisite.

  Thoroughly, utterly, intoxicatingly sexy.

  And as deadly as a cottonmouth.

  That was Malek Alexandre, summed up in twelve concise words.

  A spectator at the private bondage club, standing in the shadows at the back of an open dungeon, Lei Mitchell moved aside to let a slave wearing a black thong and dog collar pass. Her gaze never left Malek. Not for a second.

  This was an opportunity she couldn’t deny herself.

  For once she was free to just . . . enjoy. Without fearing she’d be caught by Malek, one of his brothers, or her sister, Rin.

  Lei’s hungry gaze wandered up and down his body at leisure now, taking in the full glory of his heavily muscled form. He was wearing a simple outfit—black, snug-fitting knitted shirt and tailored trousers, no leather for this man—but still Lei could make out the rippling bulges and clean lines defining each muscle as he lifted his arm and flicked his wrist. The leather tails of his flogger sailed through the air toward their target, and Lei’s breath caught in her throat.

  Malek was not just any dom. He was the dom. The one who made her blood pound hard and hot through her veins. If only submitting to him wouldn’t mean her destruction.

  Warm and tingly all over, even though her insides ached a little at knowing she would never—could never—know the pleasure of submitting to her master, Lei stood in that dark corner, just out of his sight, and watched as Malek trained a submissive. The sub, a male, clearly enjoyed every stroke of the lash, as evidenced by the look of utter rapture on his face . . . and the large bulge pressing against the only garment he was wearing, the snug black G-string. Like Malek, the sub was lean, firmly muscled, bronzed, attractive. He was also delightfully responsive. She wouldn’t mind taking him back to her private suite sometime.

  Since being rescued from a nightmarish life as a sex slave, Lei had come to this private bondage club to exorcise her demons. One of her previous owners had trained her to dominate him. As it turned out, his kink had become her salvation. Now she was the one in control. She was the one holding the whip, tying the knots, instead of receiving the blows or being bound and forced to fuck.