“And then, Ian came along, and being the star of the show was his thing.” She laughed at Blake’s grimace. “Yeah, I didn’t want to mention him, but it’s relevant.”
Her landlord looked like he was going to say something then shook his head. “Can’t imagine you not being center stage, Fun-Size.”
“You calling me—”
“I’m not calling you a drama queen,” Blake said, correctly predicting her next words. “But you’re more interesting than that…your ex, could ever be.”
She smiled. “Owen said something like that. I think only people who met me now, in New York and after Ian, could say that. Before that, I was always the quiet, responsible one. At least in contrast to him, or my family.”
There was a short silence, and Autie felt so suddenly and overwhelmingly exposed, she buried her face in her hands. “Forget I said any of that. I’m so fucking embarrassed I’m not even drunk. Ignore me. Please stop looking at me. Just let me die.”
“Fun-Size, look at me.”
“No thanks.”
An impatient sigh. “You deserve to be the center of attention more than anyone I’ve ever met.”
“Cheers,” Autumn said into her palms. “But that would mean a lot more if I hadn’t just fucked you.”
“I mean it. You’re sweet and funny. Thoughtful. You care for sick animals, for godsake. I’m starting to think everyone you’ve ever met was a moron not to make you aware of this. You’re…incredible. Okay?” Another sigh. “I’ll be back in a minute. I’m getting you another drink.”
She opened her mouth, her eyes suddenly overbright. “Um, thank you, The Landlord. That was really sweet and, um—”
“You don’t need to go on about it.”
She smiled, adoring him. “So, about my next drink…”
“It’ll be different. You liked the first one but you didn’t love it.”
Autumn frowned. “How do you know so much about what I want, The Landlord?”
He shrugged and the feeling of overexposure rose again. Was she that obvious? That basic? “Seriously, how do you always know what I want? Isn’t men not knowing what women want, like, a whole thing?”
Blake pulled a grouchy face. “People always act like women are another species. Like they’re cats or planets or whatever the fuck else. It’s not hard to see what people want if you actually look and listen.”
“That’s not really an answer.”
Blake bent down so that their faces were close, their bodies contained in a private bubble of this noisy, trendy bar. “You’re a busy woman,” he said. “You feel obliged to give all of yourself all the time, to those dirty pigeons, to the gym instructor, to the other tenants. Now I found out your parents leaned on you pretty hard and that doesn’t surprise me at all. The day you moved in, you were the one making everything happen while your ex was on his phone. You…”
He broke off.
“What?” Autumn urged.
“You cleared that path for me to walk through,” Blake muttered. “You saw my leg and you knew…that’s just not something a lot of people would have done, but you did. You care, Fun-Size, you notice things. You run the show and you do it well so people assume that’s what you want.”
“And isn’t it?” she whispered.
Blake shook his head. “Nope. You want me to order your drinks, pick where we eat and choose how we fuck. You don’t care if I pick a pink drink, or a blue one. If I screw you standing up, or on your back. You care about not having to decide. You want someone else to be dependable for once. To make you feel like if you fall, someone else can catch you. That’s why being tied up makes you feel free. It puts the burden of responsibility on me, that way you can relax and enjoy yourself without feeling guilty. That’s what you want, Fun-Size. To feel like you matter enough for someone else to try.”
There was a rushing in her ears, like an ocean tide crashing onto the shore. Blake met her gaze squarely, his incredible eyes locked on hers. He was still ruddy from their sex, his color high beneath his beard, his smell more earthy and masculine. Staring at him, she felt a deep vibration within her. A recognition of something old and new and terrifying and wonderful, but when she reached for the word to describe it, the feeling slipped away and she was left with what Blake had said about her wanting him to take care of her. “I think that’s…that’s pretty dead-on,” she said.
Blake nodded, stood and started toward the bar.
“Wait!”
He turned and raised his eyebrows.
“If what I want is to put the burden of responsibility on you, why do you take it? What’s in that for you?”
She got the same unfathomable look he’d given her when he was sliding himself deep inside her. “Be back soon.”
When he returned, Autumn had decided to move the conversation along. His revelations about her needs had struck something deep and uncomfortable inside her on what was supposed to be a casual post-fuck drink.
“So, what did you do before you were a landlord?” she asked as soon as he handed her a tall, peach-colored cocktail. “Or have you been running the building since your late teens?”
“I was a sandhog.” Clearly reading her confusion on her face, he added, “Slang for an underground construction worker.”
“Oh, what does that invol—” Autumn’s phone buzzed within her bag, the loud vibration snapping her train of thought.
“Call?” Blake asked.
“Text I think? Do you mind if I check it? It might be Owen.”
“Go ahead. I like that you’ve got a friend keeping an eye out for you.”
Autumn smiled, feeling another flash of that strange new-old sensation. “I’ll just be a sec.”
She pulled out her phone and lit up the screen.
Fucking…what?
It took everything Autumn had not to yell something out loud, but she managed it. Unfortunately, she must have showed a physical response to the very unwelcome picture message she’d received because Blake bent over the table. “Everything okay?”
“Totally fine,” she lied, shoving her phone back in her bag.
Goddammit. So much for thinking Ian was over it, that he’d be content with his shiny new fuckbuddies and leave her alone. Owen was right, he’d had his fill of easy sex and now he wanted his body pillow back. Jesus Christ, what was she going to do? He was already sending nudes, what if he called her parents to petition for her to get back with him? Or her brothers? Or their friends? God, what if he showed up at her door naked and holding a dozen roses? That would be so like him…
“Autumn.” Blake’s tone was colder than the ice in her drink. “Who was that message from?”
She knew then that he already knew, or at least strongly suspected, but she couldn’t help herself. “Owen, he was just…saying hello.”
Blake’s face was blank, utterly void of emotion. “It was him, wasn’t it?”
Autumn couldn’t lie in the fact of the direct question, nor could she ask ‘who’s him’ when she knew Blake already knew. “Yeah.”
“What did he say?”
Tricky, considering he didn’t really say anything. With words, anyway. The fact that he was shirtless on his bed with a hand shoved into the dark blue briefs she’d bought him implied a great deal. “Um…well…”
“Autumn, I swear to god if he’s trying to hurt you—”
“It’s not like that, okay? It was just a text.”
Blake sat back in his chair, his shoulders swelling, his chest expanding. His face was still blank, but now he looked like a man preparing himself for a bar brawl.
“And what,” he said, his tone icy, “was in that text?”
She took a deep breath. “It was a picture.”
Blake’s silence was more deafening than a thousand church bells clanging at once. His upper lip curled and she knew that he knew. Knew and that he was beyond furious.
She pulled her phone out again. “I’ll delete it.”
“Autumn.” Blake’s voice was surpri
singly level. “Are you still sending him that kind of thing?”
“No,” she said, so quickly the word came out more like ‘nurghh.’
“You still talking to each other?”
“No! I haven’t spoken to him until today when he messaged about my mum’s birthday. I don’t know why he thinks I’d want to look at his dick after what he—”
About two seconds too late, she realized she shouldn’t have mentioned the dick thing. Really shouldn’t have mentioned the dick thing.
“Your ex-boyfriend just sent you a photo of his cock?”
“No. A bit. It’s kind of like from here to here,” Autumn said, waving a hand from face to groin. “You can only see a bit of the head. I can show it to you if you want, it would totally serve him right.”
Blake’s face grew dark as a surge of roiling storm clouds.
Fucking hell, Reynolds.
“Actually, I’m going to delete it,” she said. “I’ll empty the trash, too. And uh, you’re a lot bigger, if that’s any consolation.”
Blake’s expression told her it wasn’t even close. “Finish your drink.”
“You’re not gonna kick his ass, are you? I know he’s a prick, but I hate violence.”
Blake drained his whiskey in a single swallow and banged his glass down. “I have no interest in seeing that little prick. This involves you and me, Blondie. We’re going back to my house. I’m going to show you what I consider consolation.”
CHAPTER 13
Why was Blake always blind to one hill of the landscape when it came to women?
He listened. He watched. He didn’t pride himself on too many things, but perceptiveness was one of them. At thirteen, he’d noticed his parents going through a rough patch. They had money issues, which wasn’t unusual for anyone in the neighborhood. Blake’s father was particularly stung by his low bank balance, because Blake’s uncle, his brother, had invested in real estate at a young age. Was making money hand over fist, living the bachelor life across the water in Manhattan, while Blake’s father worked himself to the bone in an underground mine for far less pay.
All of this had been apparent to Blake at age ten. It had been impossible to miss the twist of his dad’s mouth every time his uncle came up in conversation. Or the dimming enthusiasm his father had toward the job. During that time, Blake let his mother maneuver him around the house to escape his father’s black moods. He humored her when she told him to go ride his bike outside, a tight smile pasted on her face, but he’d seen and heard everything. Known what was happening, including the day his father received a promotion and the heavy fog lifted in the house.
Or so he’d thought. One morning on the walk to the bus stop, his mother burst into tears. She’d thanked him for being so patient while they’d dealt with some things.
“It’s okay, mom. Dad has the promotion now. Everything’s fine.”
She’d seemed surprised. “Right. He didn’t get it in time, though. I needed some money to go into business with my friends. You know the new spa on 129th Street?”
She tugged her coat higher around her neck. “It’s okay. There’s always next time, right?”
Somehow he’d missed his mother’s end of the struggle. Been completely blind to it. Over a decade later, he’d been blind to the true feelings of his fiancée. Apparently this was to be a running theme in his life. He could see everything but the shit that mattered. Like his fiancée fucking someone else a month before their wedding—someone who spoke in full sentences and knew how to be social—while he got up every morning assuming their lives were going to plan, that he’d found someone who didn’t exactly accept his quiet moods and odd ways, but had learned to live with them.
Blake glanced at Autumn, trudging beside him. The cab had dropped them off on the avenue and they were walking the remaining distance to the building. She hadn’t said a word since the bar and he wondered if she was thinking about her ex. The idea made him want to hoist her over his shoulder and scale the side of the brick structure, like some deranged King Kong. Every sinew of strength in his body was pulled tight as a violin string, ready to be plucked in the wrong way so he could go off.
Jealousy was a puny little word. Right then, there was enough of it in his pinky finger to power the fucking city. So taking his whole body into account, the experts would have to think of a new phrase to describe how Blake felt over Autumn receiving a dick pic from her asshole ex-boyfriend. But he supposed berserk was a decent start.
His hands fisted in his coat pockets to prevent him from ripping the cell phone from Autumn’s purse and stomping it into a non-existence. Yes, of course, he didn’t want this girl looking at anyone’s cock but his own. He’d allowed himself to wedge himself inside her tonight for the first time, slipping deeper and deeper into obsession as she pulsed around him, her thighs straining in the ropes. Calling it the best sex of his life was on par with describing his current state of mind as ‘jealous.’ With Autumn tied up and moaning, her tight, slippery body welcoming him home, he’d been a king and a lucky bastard at the same time. Everything all at once.
Emotions were things he could manage, like a teacup game, moving them around and hiding the prize until his adversaries gave up. But for the first time in his life, he’d lost track of the prize. Maybe because Autumn held it in her hands and didn’t realize it.
Blake reached over and took Autumn’s hand, without a formal command from his brain. He didn’t understand the move, he was pissed as hell and planned on exacting retribution in the form of nasty sex. Since the beginning, though, he’d needed her to know…to understand he’d die before hurting her. And even in his somewhat unhinged state of mind, her being confident in him was still the most important thing.
Especially when she let out a slow breath and tucked herself into his side. Cannon balls started firing inside his rib cage. Boom, boom, boom.
Goddamn, she could send him to the height of anger and bring him plummeting back down with one cheek nuzzle. Did she realize that? Was she even halfway aware? Yes, the idea of her looking at someone else’s dick was like a spike to his right eye, but more than that it didn’t make sense. What kind of stupid prick tried to win a woman like Autumn back with something so ridiculous?
His rage swooped back in, spiky and metallic-tasting. The image of a smirking Ian reclining naked on his bed was haunting him. He had intended to tempt Autumn, had tempted her, at least at one time. Maybe he still did, because what the hell did Blake know? He could be missing another hill within the landscape, just like he’d done in the past. Did she like getting pictures from her ex? Did she miss him? Did she consider their three-date deal a mere distraction?
As Blake unlocked the building’s front door and guided Autumn inside, he greeted the anger and uncertainty with open arms.
The better to fuck you with, my dear. There wouldn’t be a millimeter of uncertainty in her mind with him filling her up. She’d know her master, call him by name and her flesh would react accordingly. Sex was the only weapon he had right now, when everything felt stripped down to the bone. So he’d use it.
There was just enough rationality inside him to acknowledge he had no right to be that jealous, or hold Autumn responsible in any way. None whatsoever. They’d struck a deal to fuck. Everything they did with clothes on was at Blake’s own insistence and God, there was every chance she found that pathetic. She’d just come out of a relationship with a man who resembled a boy band member yet lacked an ounce of character. Still, Ian must have had more redeeming qualities besides looks to land a bright girl like Autumn. What did he have? A cave on the first floor, heaps of books and an aversion to sunlight.
No. He had one more thing. The ability to make her his captive.
Blake squeezed Autumn’s hand once and paused at the inside door, letting her walk through the hallway alone. Almost even with his apartment, she sent him a timid look over her shoulder and his blood started to pump hard through his veins. No holding back tonight. She wasn’t going to see anything
but him. Wasn’t going to feel anything but what he chose her to feel. Yes. Control over the situation with Autumn was exactly what he needed. Based on the little shiver in her walk, the slide of her palms along her hips, she needed it, too. The voice of reason told Blake they should talk about what happened, but he ignored it.
When Autumn would have ventured past his apartment to the elevator, Blake started after her at a fast clip, paying no attention to the throb of his bad leg. He twisted a fist in the back of her shirt, throwing her off balance and tucking her into the front of his body. She gasped and struggled, planting her hands on his apartment door and pushing back with her hips. Her tight little ass pressed back on his hard cock and it felt so fucking good, he let out a genuine groan. God, he needed to fuck her.
He wrapped her hair around his knuckles and tugged Autumn’s head back, pressing his mouth to her ear. “You’ll only make it harder on yourself if you fight me, Blondie. Do you understand?” He rammed his hips forward, pinning her to the door. “I want pussy. And I’m going to get it.”
“No.” Her fingertips clawed at the door. “Please. I—I don’t…”
“You don’t what?” Blake’s right hand plunged into her pants, gripping the source of his lust. “You don’t have a pussy? Then what’s this tight, little thing, huh?”
“Please, sir.” Her flesh heated right there in his hand, ripe and obedient. “I just want to go home.”
“That’s too bad. You have a new home now.” He massaged her roughly, grunting at the wetness spilling over his fingers. “I have a new home, too. Can’t wait to get settled in.”
Autumn renewed her struggles, giving Blake no choice but to remove his hand from her tight pants, unlock the apartment and drag her inside. She fought him—hard—twisting in his arms and kicking at his shins. And from the way his cock swelled, he understood once and for all that this wasn’t just Autumn’s thing. Yeah, he’d fantasized about being rough with her, but her specific needs had sharpened his own. They were both in this together. Deep. Autumn needed to be a prisoner and his desire to give her everything made him crave the role.
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