by Hannah Ford
WHAT I WANT (Book One)
Hannah Ford
Contents
Copyright
What I Want (What I Want, Book One)
WHAT I WANT
What He Wants (What He Wants, Book One)
What He Wants (What He Wants, Book One)
Copyright © 2016 by Hannah Ford
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
What I Want (What I Want, Book One)
WHAT I WANT
Please Note: This is WHAT HE WANTS (Book One) told from Noah’s POV. You do not need to have read the WHAT HE WANTS series to understand it.
NOAH
I wanted to fuck her as soon as I saw her. That curvy little body was all tarted up in a tight little black dress, and those nice round tits were practically spilling out the top. Her dark hair fell in loose curls around her shoulders, and she sipped on a drink, her full pink lips pretty and pouty and just made for sucking my dick.
I sat at the bar and watched her for a while, biding my time. She was at some kind of party – bachelorette from what I could tell, and it was almost enough to put me off the whole idea. Women at bachelorette parties were a particular kind of crazy, one I wasn’t sure I wanted to deal with.
A couple of blond women at the other end of the bar were staring at me, and I tried not to encourage them by making eye contact. Not that it was difficult. I couldn’t stop staring at that shapely little vixen on the other side of the room. Her dress hit just below the knee, and when she turned around, giving me a view of that gorgeous round ass, my cock got hard.
I was so transfixed that I didn’t realize one of the blondes had made her way over to me.
“Don’t I know you from somewhere?” she tried. I almost sighed out of boredom, but that was too rude, even for me.
“I doubt it,” I said, although it was entirely possible that she did know me from somewhere. Thankfully, I knew I probably hadn’t slept with her. She wasn’t my type – too blond, too skinny, too much like a Barbie.
“No, I know I recognize you.” She motioned to her friend, another bottled blonde, to come over. “Alexa, isn’t this Noah Cutler?”
Apparently she didn’t think it would make more sense to just ask me if I was Noah Cutler. I took a sip of my drink and resisted the urge to roll my eyes.
From across the room, I watched as the curvy bombshell made her way to a table all by herself, peeling herself off from the rest of the party.
“Yes!” the blonde’s friend said. “You gave that speech at my graduation last year. I absolutely loved it.”
“I’m glad,” I lied. I didn’t give a shit if she loved my speech or not. College was bullshit, the kind of thing people thought they needed, when really, I hadn’t learned anything in college that I couldn’t have learned on my own.
I drained the rest of my drink and concentrated on the brunette. She turned toward me, pushing her hair back from her face, and I was struck again by her beauty. She happened to look up just at that moment, and our eyes met.
She turned away quickly, embarrassed.
I had to have her.
And then, just like that, I saw my opening.
Some dickhead guy was making his way over to her. Jealousy and possessiveness flooded me. She was mine. And I was going to make sure I had her tonight.
“Excuse me,” I said to the blondes.
And then I went to go claim my prize.
“No, wait,” one of the women said. She reached for my arm. “Buy me a drink? If you do, I’ll make sure I’ll make it worth your while.
Her blue eyes were alight.
I wondered what she would think if she knew the truth about me, if she knew how rough I was, how demanding. If she knew that if I brought her home with me, I would have no interest in having sex with her, that instead I would want to fuck her and lash her with my belt.
It didn’t matter.
I had no interest in her.
I turned my back, not bothering her to answer, and made my way across the bar.
My prize was sipping a drink, something that looked fruity and girly and fucking ridiculous. I couldn’t stop staring at her mouth – her lips were full and lush, perfect for dick sucking.
The man who had approached was talking to her now, and my hands tightened in possessiveness. I hated him being close to her, hated the way he was looking at her body. Hated that he probably thought that since she was curvy and lush that he would have a chance.
She was beautiful, her body made for fucking. And this idiot wouldn’t understand that.
I watched as they had an exchange. She said something he obviously didn’t like, and the asshole reached out, took the drink from her hand, and poured it on the floor. Then he put his arm around her.
Rage pulsed through my veins, hard and hot and intense.
Mine.
“Leave her alone,” I growled as I lunged at him, my hand tightening around the back of his shirt.
He stumbled for a few steps, almost hitting the table behind us, then readjusted his suit coat. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he demanded.
I gave him a look, the kind of look that had earned my reputation as the best lawyer in the city, the kind of look that told him I would beat the shit out of him if he didn’t go the fuck away. It wasn’t an empty threat. Something had ignited in me, something primal and raw. Something that made me want to protect this woman, and not let anyone touch her except for me.
The man scurried back to his friend, like the rat that he was, and I turned back to the girl.
“You okay?” I asked her.
“I’m fine.” Up close, she was even more gorgeous than I’d first thought. Her skin was smooth and creamy, and I had an image of her down on her knees, my dick exploding on her, my cum splashing all over her face.
She was probably five-eight or five-nine, but I was six-three, and I towered over her. She seemed small and delicate next to me, and I wanted to wrap my hands around her throat until I left marks.
“What were you drinking?” I asked her instead.
“Um, vodka and cranberry.” She blushed. She was cute when she blushed. I wanted her to turn around so I could get another look at her ass.
I reached my hand up and motioned for the cocktail waitress, then ordered two Manhattans.
“Oh, no” the girl tried. “I’ll just have a – ”
“It’s good to try new things,” I said, cutting her off.
“I try new things.” Her tone was defensive, leading me to believe that she didn’t try new things. Those who were adventurous didn’t feel the need to run around advertising how adventurous they were.
She was still blushing and she glanced down shyly.
Jesus, I needed to spank her until that nice ass of hers was raw and aching.
I let my eyes run up her body, lingering on her tits. They probably looked even bigger once she didn’t have a bra on, once her nipples were nice and hard, once I’d sucked them until they were raw.
She shifted on her chair. I loved that I was making her uncomfortable. Loved that her pussy was probably wet.
“You here by yourself?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer.
“No.” She swallowed. “Bachelorette party.”
“Fun,” I said dryly. My eyes landed on her wrist. She was wearing a candy bracelet, an elastic string covered with pastel-
colored round candies. “What’s with that?”
“Oh,” she said. “It’s … it’s kind of game. You know, for the party.” She still seemed uncomfortable as she waved her hand, indicating her friends out on the dance floor. But I didn’t want to look at them. I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
“And?” I prompted.
“And what?”
“And what are you supposed to do with it?” My need to touch her was impossible to control. I reached out and tugged on the bracelet. The elastic zinged back and hit her wrist, and she shifted on her seat again, due to the surprise of my gesture. The way she flinched from the pain sent a pulse of arousal to my cock.
“It’s too embarrassing to mention.”
“Try me.”
The waitress returned with our drinks, and I handed one off to my sweet little innocent. She took it hesitantly, and my knuckles tightened around my glass, so hard I was afraid I was going to break it. Her hesitation and reluctance at everything made me want to push her to her knees and switch her with a cane.
“Well,” she said, “We’re supposed to get different men to bite one of the candies off, and then have them sign our arms.”
“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“I know.” She shrugged. “But how could I really say no? Everyone else was doing it.”
“Do you always do things just because everyone else is doing them?” I didn’t wait for her to answer. I couldn’t wait to touch her skin again, and I reached out and took her bracelet, turning it over to inspect her wrist. “You don’t have any signatures.” My finger slid over her pulse point, then moved slowly up her elbow.
She took a sip of her drink, grimacing at the burn of the whiskey.
I moved my hand back down to her wrist and then raised it slowly to my mouth. I bit one of the candies off the bracelet, enjoying her taste, my tongue flicking against her skin. I wanted to bite her, but she was like a deer in the headlights, so soft, so innocent, that I didn’t want to scare her.
I picked the pen up off the table where the waitress had left our bill, and drew a big X on her arm, marking her as mine.
“There,” I said.
“You’re supposed to sign your name.”
“But that would ruin the mystery.” I let my eyes linger on her again, and I was about to tell her my name and ask for hers, ending this charade, but then the shock of something unexpected, something unfamiliar, pulsed through me.
Fear.
Up until now, I’d been imagining her down on her knees, but now, suddenly, I had the thought that I would – metaphorically, of course – be the one brought to my knees by her. She was exquisite and perfect, and the tightening in my chest spurred on by my need to have her was shocking in its intensity.
For the first time, I had the overwhelming sense that I should leave her alone, that she was too young, too pure, too untouched. If I brought her into my world, all I would do was sully her.
“Charlotte! What are you doing over here all by yourself!” A girl appeared at our table, one of the other partygoers.
Charlotte.
Charlotte was her name.
Charlotte.
It fit her perfectly. It was sweet and sexy at the same time.
“Oh,” the interloper said when she saw me. “I didn’t realize you had company.” She held her hand out. “I’m Cora.”
Annoyance flamed inside of me. In that moment, I hated this woman, this Cora for showing up and interrupting my conversation with Charlotte.
My annoyance was unnerving, and that, coupled with the rush of emotion I’d felt at hearing her name, made the urge to flee roar through me like a lion. I needed to get the fuck out of there.
“I was just leaving.” I tossed down the rest of my drink, then returned to the bar.
The blondes were still there, and I flirted with them a bit, desperate for a distraction.
But I couldn’t have been less interested. The blondes were objectively beautiful, but the whole time, I was watching her.
Finally, I forced myself to leave the bar, hoping that some distance would help quell the uncomfortable feeling of possessiveness inside of me.
But I couldn’t get her out of my mind.
It was like she’d crawled under my skin, like she’d invaded my soul.
I ducked into a coffee shop across the street and stood by the window, watching, waiting for her to come out of the bar.
After a few moments, a twenty-something kid with spiked blonde hair approached me. “Can I help you with something, sir?” he asked.
“No.” I was short and curt, annoyed that he was trying to distract me from the task at hand.
“Um, do you want… I mean, do you want to order something? If you do, we can help you at the counter.” His tone was polite, but I knew what he meant. I needed to order something, or they wouldn’t allow me to stay.
I turned and saw the employees behind the counter staring at me, wondering what I was doing here in my expensive suit, staring out the window, watching the bar across the street.
I rolled my eyes and ordered a stupid drink, some bullshit coffee that I held in my hand and didn’t drink, while I stayed glued to the plate glass window. I made a note to call tomorrow and inquire about the coffee shop – maybe I would buy it and fire them all. Or better yet, make them work harder and get their shit together. The décor in here was hideous, and I couldn’t imagine their profit margins were what they could be, given the fact that there were six people working in here and barely any customers.
Five more minutes, I told myself. Five more minutes, and if she didn’t come out, I would leave.
I was still there half an hour later, my coffee cold in my hand, when she emerged.
There was a soft breeze and it pushed her hair across her face.
I wanted to kiss her mouth, wrap that hair around my hand and yank. Hard.
I hurried out of the coffee shop and followed her down the sidewalk, catching up until I fell stepped into lockstep next to her. She quickened her stride, without realizing it was me, and her skittishness caused the blood to rush to my dick. She was so innocent, so primed for direction.
Finally, she looked over at me, the look on her face hesitant, her eyes wide. My cock hardened even more as I imagined her down on her knees, a ball gag stuffed into her mouth, her hands tied behind her back, the rope leaving marks on her delicate skin.
I wanted to bruise her, make her pussy ache.
“Hello,” I said.
“Hi.” Her voice was sweet, hesitant. But her cheeks flushed from excitement.
“Didn’t feel like continuing the party?” I asked her, forcing cheer into my voice.
“No. I, um, have to be up early tomorrow.”
“On a Saturday?”
“Yes.”
We turned the corner onto a side street, and the crowd began to thin out. There were no bars or restaurants in this area, and most of the retail stores were closed.
As she walked, her tits bounced slightly under the thin fabric of her dress. I towered over her, and from my vantage point, I could see just slightly down the front of her dress. That, along with her innocence, and the mark I could still see on her wrist, the X I’d written, made me the slight grip I’d been keeping on my control.
I grabbed her roughly, pulling her into a space between the buildings.
“What are you doing?” she asked as I pushed up against her. Her body felt just as I’d imagined. Soft and full and lush, ready for fucking. She tried to push me away, but it only served to make my cock harder. I wanted her to struggle – it would make it that much better when she finally succumbed.
She resisted me more, and I pushed into her again, hard. I could feel it building, my need for her.
Stop. You’ll hurt her if you keep going, you’ll push her too far.
I took a few steps back, suddenly afraid of what I would do to her, the amount of pain I could inflict on her tight little body if I didn’t get control of myself.
“If you want to go, go,” I said. But I knew she wasn’t going anywhere, or I wouldn’t have said it. Her breath was coming in short gasps, and I could see the outline of her hard nipples popping like two buttons through her dress. If she tried to run, I would catch her.
I took a moment to steady myself. I hadn’t had this kind of reaction to a woman in… well, how long it had been, if ever, made the red lights of emergency flash in my mind.
I tried to calm myself, knowing that if I rushed her too soon, I would be way too rough. And yet I wanted to annihilate her pussy, to bruise her, whip her, teach her to be mine. And yet at the same time, I felt this overwhelming urge to protect her, mostly from myself.
Our gazes were locked, and I could tell she knew she should run.
I moved back toward her, not able to take it anymore.
I grabbed her shoulders and ran my hands down her arms, over the X I’d drawn there earlier. She was branded, and seeing it made the tenuous grip I had on my self-control loosen even more.
“Right now,” I told her. “You are mine.”
I brought my lips to hers. The kiss was like nothing I’d ever experienced before. Her lips were soft, her mouth hesitant as I pushed my tongue inside. She let me take immediate control, setting the pace, controlling the pressure of our tongues against each other. I French kissed her, my tongue probing her mouth, exploring, tasting.
Her body relaxed, the fight zapping out of her as her hard nipples brushed against my chest.
I needed to see those big tits of hers, needed to have them out and unfettered, needed to know what her nipples looked like.
I grabbed her right hand, and I felt her tense up, so I pushed it up over her head, pinning her to the wall of the building. I repeated the process with her left hand.
She was no match for my strength, and I was able to hold her wrists easily with just one hand, pushing hard, hoping she would have scratches on the back of her knuckles from the rough brick.
With my free hand, I yanked hard on her dress, pulling it down over her tits. Her curves were encased in a lacy little bra, the cups molded to her skin. I groped her through the material, loving the way she felt under me, how innocent and helpless.