by Hannah Ford
“You’re not?” I pressed. “You’re not thinking about what it felt like to kiss me, how your body felt against mine, how my hands felt on you?” I moved even closer. “Because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”
I ran my thumb over her bottom lip, resisting the urge to suck on it.
“Come back to my apartment,” I said. “We can do whatever you want.”
“Whatever I want?” she repeated.
“Promise,” I said. “We’ll do whatever you want.”
She knew it was a lie. We both knew it was a lie.
She was starting to understand that I was the one who made the rules.
But she knew was going to come with me anyway.
We took my car back to my apartment.
She was quiet on the ride over, contemplative almost.
“I’m not going to sleep with you again,” she reiterated as we took the elevator up to my apartment. “It would be extremely unprofessional of me.”
“Charlotte,” I said, sighing. “Why do you keep alluding to the fact that we’re going to be sleeping together? I haven’t said any such thing.” I don’t want to sleep with you. I want to fuck your pretty little pussy until you’re so sore you can’t walk.
“You said you couldn’t stop thinking about what we did earlier.”
“You mean when I lifted your dress and fucked you in public?” I asked.
“Yes.”
We stepped off the elevator, and stopped outside the door to my apartment. For the first time, I hesitated. She was in over her head. And as much as I wanted her, as much as I couldn’t control myself, there were things about me, things I desired and needed that were dark and black and… “Are you sure you want to do this?” I asked her.
“Do what?”
“Come inside.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
Because I want to whip you and tie you and fuck you until you can’t walk. “Because I’m about to be arrested for murder,” I settled on.
“Did you do it?” she shot back. Spitfire.
I grinned. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
She rolled her eyes, and my hand twitched, wanting to lay a spank on her ass.
“If you’re saying that, it means you didn’t,” she said.
I unlocked the door and pushed it open.
“Nice place,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant. But I knew my place was amazing. It had high ceilings and expensive furniture and huge windows that gave an expansive view of the city. The lights outside twinkled in the darkness, but the view paled in compare to her, to her beauty. I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
“Thank you. Would you like a drink?”
“No thanks.”
I sat down on the couch.
She sat down on the chair across from me.
“I really want to kiss you again,” I said.
“No kissing,” she said. But she shifted again, this time crossing her legs at the ankles. She swallowed hard, and I watched her throat move.
“Why not?” I asked mischievously.
“Because you might be a murderer.”
“You really think I murdered someone?”
“I’m not sure,” she said. She pulled at her skirt again, and my cock pulsed, begging to release my cum all over her. “I don’t know anything about the crime.”
“Worthington didn’t tell you?”
“No.” She shook her head.
“Then you don’t know that I’m probably going to be arrested?”
“I thought you were just a suspect.”
“I’m a suspect because I’m the most likely one who did it.”
“You don’t seem upset.”
“I’m distracted.”
“By what?”
“The way your tits look in that shirt.”
She blushed at my dirty language, and stared down at her hands.
“Will you stand up for me?” I asked her softly. “I want to look at your body.”
She stood up.
“Turn around.”
She turned around, a complete three-sixty and I let my eyes linger on those curves of hers.
“God, you are sexy,” I said. “You’re getting my cock hard just looking at you.”
“Noah,” she said. “This is not … I mean, we really shouldn’t be.”
“Do you want to stop?”
She shook her head no, biting her bottom lip softly.
“Good. Turn around.”
She turned around so that her back was to me. Her ass was encased in that tight little skirt, and I needed to see more of her curves.
“Now bend over.”
She hesitated, then bent over just the tiniest bit. My hands gripped the sides of the chair. More.
“All the way,” I commanded. “All the way down and grab your ankles.” She did as she was told, reaching all the way down and grabbing her ankles. There was no hesitation – she was already learning to respond to my commands.
Her skirt rose up over that hot ass of hers. She was wearing a black thong, and the globes of her ass were completely bared to me. I stared at her creamy untouched skin, closing my eyes for a brief second to steady myself.
The desire to scar her was almost overwhelming.
“You are so fucking sexy,” I rasped. “Come here. Come to me.”
She crossed the room to me, slowly, and I pulled her into my lap. I pushed her skirt up, over the smooth expanse of her thigh, letting my hand linger on her curves. Her body was so lush, so gorgeous.
I grabbed the back of her head with my free hand and pulled her toward me. “I’m going to fuck you again, Charlotte,” I pushed my pelvis into her ass, so she could feel how hard my cock was. She moaned, and the sound made me want to own her body. “This time I’m going to fuck you for a long time. Do you think you can handle it?”
“Yes,” she breathed.
“Tell me you want me to fuck you.”
“I want you to fuck me,” she said. “Please, I need you to fuck me.”
“Say my name.” I pushed a finger into her mouth and she sucked on it softly. She was a good girl, her instincts to please me taking over. I couldn’t wait to teach her. She would be a willing student, I could tell.
“Fuck me, Noah,” she whispered. “Please, I want you to fuck me.” Her voice was soft and breathy, the look in her eyes so sweet and innocent. Emotion welled up in me, shocking in its intensity.
I kissed her gently, my tongue moving past her lips and probing her mouth, rubbing against her tongue.
The kissing was getting her hot, and she tried to grind herself against my dick, aching for relief from the want building inside of her. But I grabbed her hip. “No,” I said. “You don’t get to control this. I do. And we’re going to go nice and slow.”
I started unbuttoning her shirt, like she was a present to be unwrapped. The top of her tits spilled over the cups of her bra, and I ran my finger over her cleavage.
“I’m going to explore every single inch of these hot, sexy curves of yours. Do you understand that, Charlotte?”
“Yes,” she said shyly.
I stood up, brining her with me, and she wrapped her legs around me instinctually. She felt so tiny and innocent in my arms, even more so when she buried her face into my shoulder. I inhaled the scent of her hair and closed my eyes, not able to believe I was going to do this to her, that I was going to put her through this.
But my need to own her was nothing short of compulsive.
I brought her to my bedroom and laid her down on my bed. She sunk into the sheets, her breath coming in ragged gasps.
“Are you ready for this, Charlotte?” I asked her, pushing her hair back from her face. I searched her eyes with mine, looking for any sign that she didn’t want this. She was hesitant, yes, nervous, yes, maybe even a little scared -- but she wanted it.
“Yes,” she said. “Yes, I’m ready.”
I unbuttoned my shirt, slid my tie off and pushed her hands over her head, tying her to the
headboard with my tie. She was bound now, and the sight of her laid out like that was beautiful.
I groped her body, letting my hands wander over her tits, her hips, her ass.
She was mine to do with as pleased. Bound and totally helpless.
She was in over her head.
I wanted her more than I’d wanted any woman in my life.
But she wasn’t ready for me and the kind of demons that tormented my soul.
I should have left her alone.
But I just couldn’t help myself.
END OF BOOK ONE
Turn the page to read WHAT HE WANTS, this book from Charlotte’s POV.
Or CLICK HERE to read BOOK TWO of the What He Wants Series, told from Charlotte’s POV, WHAT HE CRAVES
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What He Wants (What He Wants, Book One)
By Hannah Ford
What He Wants (What He Wants, Book One)
CHARLOTTE
I saw the sexy stranger before he saw me.
He was standing in the corner of the bar, two beautiful blond women draped on his arm. One of the women was bent over, whispering something in his ear, and when she threw her head back and laughed, he glanced up and met my eye.
I quickly looked away, embarrassed that he’d caught me staring. Men like him – tall, dark hair, full lips, sexy stubble on his ruggedly handsome face –weren’t interested in women like me. Besides, I wasn’t here to meet a man. I was here for a bachelorette party.
Not that the party was anything to get too excited about. I hated parties as a rule, and bachelorette parties were a particularly heinous form of torture. Especially one where I didn’t know anyone but the bride, who was a fellow law student at Middleton University.
I thought coming to this party might help me meet some of my classmates – Cora seemed to know everyone in our class -- but all it was doing so far was reminding me how much I hated to socialize. Oh, and making me realize that Cora, even though she was engaged, apparently subscribed to the theory that whatever happened at bachelorette parties stayed at bachelorette parties, because she’d been throwing herself at different men all night. Right now she was out on the dance floor, grinding on a man wearing plaid dress pants.
I took a sip of my drink – ginger ale with cranberry, my usual, because it made me seem like I was drinking alcohol even when I wasn’t– and tried to look busy. The last thing I wanted was one of the party-goers to come over and try to drag me into their dance frenzy.
And then, suddenly, he was by my side.
No, not the sexy stranger I’d been trying to avoid staring at, but another man.
This one was paunchy, slightly balding, and had hairy knuckles.
“Let me buy you a drink, sweetheart,” he slurred. I sighed. Men like him always tried to hit on me. They thought that since I was considered a “bigger girl” they’d have more of a chance with me. What they didn’t understand was that just because I was carrying a few extra pounds didn’t mean I was desperate.
“No, that’s okay,” I said politely. I indicated the drink I was holding. “I already have one.”
He frowned, like he was trying to work out a particularly hard math problem. Then, brightening, he reached out, took the drink from my hand and poured it onto the floor. “There!” he exclaimed, proud of himself. “Now you need another one.”
I was so shocked, I wasn’t sure what the appropriate response was. The man leaned in and slung his arm over my shoulder. “Come on,” he said, his breath smelling of alcohol and garlic. “Lemme buy you a drink.”
“Leave her alone,” someone growled, and before I knew what was happening, the sexy man from across the bar had grabbed the back of the pudgy man’s shirt and had tossed him to the side.
“Hey!” the man protested. 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?”
But my knight in shining armor gave him a menacing look, and after thinking about it, the man slunk away, back to his to group of friends.
“You okay?” the gorgeous stranger asked. Up close, he was just as sexy, although less polished than I’d first thought. He wore an expensive suit, but his white shirt was unbuttoned at the top and rumpled, like he’d spent the day getting into fights instead of behind a desk.
“I’m fine.” My throat had gone dry. This man was big – tall, at least six foot three, with broad shoulders and huge hands. I was five ten and carried more weight than I probably should have – most men made me feel big and oafish around them, but this man made me feel tiny. I imagined him grabbing me with those big hands of his, and heat flooded my core.
“What were you drinking?”
I was way too embarrassed to tell him I was drinking cranberry and ginger ale. “Um, vodka and cranberry.”
He frowned, like this was unacceptable. He reached his hand up and motioned for the cocktail waitress. His sleeve slid back for a moment, revealing a beautiful silver watch and a strong-looking forearm. Not that I was surprised –Cora had chosen this bar precisely because it was supposed to be height of sophistication. But she must have gotten something wrong, because even though the clientele did seem sophisticated – mostly young professionals, out after work on a Friday night –a lot of them were already sloppy drunk. Not this man, though – this man was completely in control of himself and his surroundings.
The cocktail waitress appeared as if out of nowhere. “What can I getcha?”
“Two Manhattans,” the man said. He set his empty glass down on the waitress’s tray. I didn’t know what a Manhattan was, but I was pretty sure it had whiskey in it. Whiskey sounded dangerous and scary, the kind of thing you shouldn’t be drinking unless you had sophisticated tastes and a high tolerance for alcohol.
“Oh, no,” I tried. “I’ll just have a – ”
But the suited stranger flicked his wrist, sending the waitress away before I could finish.
He turned around and gave me a smile. “It’s good to try new things.”
“I try new things.” My tone was more defensive than I’d meant, but it was kind of a sore spot for me. I wasn’t known for being adventurous – in fact, the most adventurous thing I’d done lately was taken a hot yoga class – but this man didn’t know that. He didn’t know anything about me. And yet he was surveying me with a certain familiarity, like he could tell I was the kind of person who didn’t try new things. It was unnerving.
The man’s eyes raked up my body, like he was trying to decide what, if anything, he should do with me. Instantly, I felt self-conscious, and I shifted on my chair. “You here by yourself?” he asked.
“No.” I swallowed. “Bachelorette party.”
“Fun,” he said, sounding like he knew it was anything but. He gestured to the candy bracelet I was wearing, another one of Cora’s bright ideas. “What’s with that?”
“Oh,” I said, fingering it. “It’s … it’s kind of game. You know, for the party.” I gestured to the dance floor, where most of the party guests had morphed from dancing to completely over-the-top, crazy gyrating. Men, sensing their chance to possibly get lucky, had jumped into the mix, creating a colorful blur of sweaty bodies.
My companion didn’t even turn to look. “And?”
“And what?”
“And what are you supposed to do with it?” He reached out and tugged on the bracelet. His fingers against my skin sent an electric current flying up my spine. The elastic bracelet zinged back and hit my wrist.
“It’s too embarrassing to mention.”
“Try me.”
The waitress returned with our drinks, and the man grabbed them off the tray in one fluid motion and handed one to me. I hesitated. I didn’t usually drink. In fact, I’d just turned twenty-one.
“Well,” I said, taking the glass he was offering. “We’re supposed to get different men to bite one of the candies off, and then have them
sign our arms.”
He laughed. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“I know.” I 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?” A brief look of amusement crossed his face, like he couldn’t imagine doing something just because everyone else was. Then he reached out and took my arm, turning it over to inspect my wrist. “You don’t have any signatures.” His finger slid over my pulse point, then moved slowly up my elbow before he finally let go. His hands weren’t what I would expect from someone wearing such an expensive watch – his fingers betrayed something else, a hard past or maybe manual labor. They were manly and slightly rough, not the kind that came from typing briefs all day and dialing an Iphone.
I took a sip of my drink. It was definitely whiskey. Or, at least, what I imagined whiskey to taste like since I’d never actually had whiskey before. It burned going down, but I was glad. The sensation kept my mind off what was happening.
The stranger reached out and took my arm again, turning it over gently in his hand before raising it to his mouth. Then he reached down and slowly, deliciously, bit one of the candies off my bracelet. His lips were hot and soft, and I felt the quick flick of his tongue against my skin as he took the candy into his mouth.
Then, with a flourish, he picked the pen up off the table where the waitress had left our bill, and put a big X on my arm. It was like he was marking me, taking ownership of me, and the thought filled me with a weird little thrill.
“There,” he said.
“You’re supposed to sign your name.”
“But that would ruin the mystery.” He grinned, and I felt myself melt. I’d never understood how women could end up hooking up with guys they’d met in bars, but I was shocked to realize that if this man had asked me to go home with him right now, I would have done it.
“Charlotte! What are you doing over here all by yourself!” Cora’s voice came trilling through the crowd, and then she appeared at our table. The strapless dress she was wearing was hanging down over her chest, and you could see the outline of her strapless bra. Cora had a great body – tiny waist, long legs, perfectly proportioned – but somehow, her clothes never seemed to fit quite right.