by Kelly Favor
Finally, he pulled me back up onto the seat. “Get on your hands and knees,” he growled.
I did as I was told, sticking my ass up in the air, not even caring that we were in the back of a limo, that he was taking me right here.
He ripped my panties off and tossed them onto the floor, then took his dick in his hand and rubbed it over my slit. “Jesus, Charlotte, that little pussy is just begging to be fucked.” And then he slid right inside of me.
I cried out in pleasure, already ready to come from that first stroke. But he leaned his body over me and grabbed my hair, pulled my head back until his lips were against my ear. “Don’t come yet, baby,” he rasped. “Not until I say.”
I whimpered, hoping he would pull back on the pressure, but he didn’t. He kept fucking me, faster and deeper, his balls hitting my ass.
“I’m going to blow a nice big load in you, do you want that, baby?” he demanded.
“Yes,” I groaned.
“When you feel me shoot inside of you, I want you to come, do you understand me, Charlotte?”
“Yes.” He hand was still on my hair, and he pulled back and slapped my ass nice and hard.
I yelled out in pain and surprise, but my pussy got wetter.
“Come for me, Charlotte,” he commanded. “Come on my dick, baby.” I did as I was told, a second later feeling the first shot of his seed filling up my pussy. He kept pistoning in and out, in and out, until I’d gotten every last drop of his come.
He slid out of my slowly and collapsed onto the seat across from me.
I sat up and pulled my skirt down, then searched the limo floor for my panties.
Noah buttoned his pants and looked at me through hooded eyes. “You really shouldn’t be wearing such revealing outfits, Charlotte,” he admonished. “You’ll get all kinds of attention that might lead to bad things.”
“I’ll take my chances,” I said. I was still out of breath, still exhilarated by the fact that he’d called me into his limo and fucked me. It meant he still wanted me, and even though it was wrong, I liked it.
Noah reached over and pushed a button on the console in the arm rest next to him.
“Yes?” the voice came.
“We’ll be taking my guest home now,” he said. “Do you remember her address from this morning, Jared?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Thank you.”
He clicked off and I stared at him, aghast. “We’ll be taking my guest home now?” I repeated incredulously.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” He was pulling a bottle of water from a cooler that was attached to the side of the door. “Did you have somewhere else you were planning to go?”
“No, I just…” I trailed off, looking out the window so he wouldn’t see the hurt in my eyes. I enjoyed having sex with him. I did. It was amazing and wonderful and physically the greatest pleasure I’d ever felt. But to be just called into his limo like this and then brought home?
I blinked back a few tears and took a deep breath. You’re being a baby, I told myself. He’s a beautiful, rich man who could have any woman he wanted. You saw that girl in the picture. She could have been – probably was – a model. Noah hadn’t made any promises to me, he hadn’t told me he wanted to be with me in any way other than a sexual one.
It was my decision to get down on my knees and suck his dick like some kind of unpaid prostitute. So if I should be upset with anyone, I should be upset with myself.
I blinked a few more times until my eyes were clear. And then I realized we were in my neighborhood. This whole time I’d thought we’d been driving around aimlessly, that Noah had told his driver to waste time. But instead, we’d been heading toward my neighborhood, like Noah had always known he was going to be sending me home.
I was mad now.
And not just at myself.
“Would you like some water, Charlotte?” Noah asked me.
“No.”
We were getting closer to my apartment, and I couldn’t wait to get out of there. I couldn’t wait to leave him in his stupid limo with his stupid driver and his stupid everything. I never wanted to see him again in my life. I was already opening the door as the limo slowed to a crawl.
I stepped out onto the sidewalk and rushed toward my building.
I heard Noah call my name, but I ignored him.
I fumbled with the key to my front door, cursing the fact that I lived in a three-story walk up and not one of those fancy apartment buildings that came with a doorman. Flouncing off to my doorman would have been much more dramatic.
“Charlotte,” Noah said, suddenly by my side. “Charlotte, what’s wrong?”
“Are you kidding me?” I asked. “You’re seriously asking me that? You’ve fucked me three times now, and each time, you pretty much just leave. No ‘I’ll call you later’, no ‘talk to you soon, Charlotte’ or ‘I had a nice time, Charlotte.’ Just nothing.”
“I asked you to have breakfast with me this morning.”
“Right before you kicked me out of your apartment!”
He looked shocked. “I’m sorry,” he said. “That’s just how these things go for me.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It means that it is what it is.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t have to do whatever this is anymore.” I pushed open the door to my building and stepped inside, but he followed me into the lobby.
He grabbed my shoulders and pushed me up against the wall. “Do you know how hard it is for me to keep my hands off of you?”
“I’m not your toy,” I said. “You can’t just have me whenever you want. I’m a person, Noah.”
“I know that,” he said, his dark eyes fiery with passion. “You think I don’t know that?”
“Then why aren’t you acting like it?” I didn’t care if I was breaking every rule in the girl code book, the one where you weren’t supposed to ask a man where your relationship stood. Especially one you’d just met. But I wasn’t going to let Noah just use me like that. Even if the sex was incredible.
“Because I can’t, Charlotte, okay? I can’t.”
“That’s bullshit.” I started to push past him, but he reached out and put his arms on either side of me, pinning me in.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said. “Do you have any idea what it would be like to be with me? To really be with me?”
“I’m not talking about being with you,” I said. “I hardly even know you! I’m talking about just being nice to me. You know, polite. Keeping up with social norms?”
He shook his head. “There is no middle ground with you, Charlotte. If I let my guard down, if I even – ” He dropped his hands, walked over to the other side of the lobby, put his hands on the wall and leaned over and stared at the ground.
“What?” I asked. “If you even what?”
“You don’t understand my demons, Charlotte,” he said, his voice soft. “You don’t understand the kinds of things I require from the women I’m with.”
He turned and looked at me then, all traces of bravado gone. An electricity thrummed between us, and I had the feeling that even this tiny admission, this tiny bit of nothing, was hard for him.
I reached out and put my hand on his arm, but he pulled away.
“What kind of things?” I asked gently.
He ran a finger down my cheek. “Things a woman like you would never understand.”
“Try me.”
His eyes searched mine, and I had a feeling I was standing at the precipice of something dangerous, like staring into an abyss at the moment right before you’re about to fall. I wanted him to pull me in, to pull me under, to take me wherever it was he was going.
“Please, Noah,” I pressed. “I want to understand.”
His face darkened, and a second later, all traces of vulnerability were gone. He straightened up. “I wish you could, Charlotte,” he said. “But I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
“You’re not asking me,” I said.
I put my hand back on his arm, and this time, he didn’t pull away. “I want to.”
We stood there for a moment, neither of us saying anything, the silence stretching for what seemed like forever. And then his cockiness came back, that disarming grin of his returning to his face.
“Very well, Charlotte,” he said. “I will take you out tonight and show you what I mean. Jared will pick you up at 8:30.” His eyes slid up my body. “Wear the sexiest thing you own.”
I’d done what I was told. I was ready by eight, dressed in the sexiest thing I owned. Well, the sexiest thing my roommate, Julia, owned. She’d let me borrow a little black dress that was too big for her. Which meant it was a little too small for me.
It plunged down in the front, showing off my ample cleavage, and hugged my hips before ending right above the knee. I’d blown my hair out into big waves, then slipped into high-heeled stilettos. Bangle bracelets adorned my wrist, and dangly silver earrings clinked as I walked.
Noah sent me a text at 8:15.
Are you ready?
Ready.
Willing?
Willing.
Show me what you’re wearing.
I snapped a selfie and sent it to him, and the reply was immediate.
I can’t wait to get you out of that dress.
I paced around my apartment until my phone finally rang at 8:30.
It was Jared.
“Hello, Miss,” he said, which felt weirdly formal, since he knew such intimate details of my life. “Are you ready for your evening?”
“I am, Jared, thanks,” I said. “I’ll be right out.”
I went to grab my purse before realizing that wherever Noah was taking me, there was no way I could bring my huge messenger bag. I needed something sleek and tiny.
I rummaged around in my closet before coming up with a tiny black Coach wristlet. I started switching over the essentials – lipstick, keys, ID, cash…. All the small stuff was in the bottom of my messenger bag, so I had to pull everything out to get to it, including the file folder I’d been given on Noah’s case, the one I’d been avoiding looking at.
It dropped to the floor as I went to grab my credit card out of my wallet, the documents spilling out onto the carpet.
I reached down to pick them up.
And then I froze.
It was a picture of Dani DeClair, another one from her autopsy. The top was labeled “DeClair, Dani.” Only this one was a split frame, with a picture from another woman’s autopsy on the other side of the page. “Hogan, Nora” it was labeled. Noah’s ex-fiancé.
The pictures were taken from the same angle, close up on both women’s wrists. It was an unremarkable shot, especially for autopsy photos. The pictures hadn’t been taken because they were gory or shocking in any way. They were taken because of their similarities.
Both women had matching light red marks on their wrists, circling around as if they’d been tied by something.
The same exact marks I had on mine.
Noah
I got to the club promptly at nine, and made my way inside. It wasn’t my usual place. Charlotte wasn’t ready for Force, and I didn’t want to scare her off before we’d even started. Besides, I liked my anonymity.
I ordered bottle service for a table in the corner and watched as men and women gyrated on the dance floor, their bodies a tangled mess. The women were beautiful and came in all shapes and sizes, blonde, brunette, curvy, fit, skinny, tan, freckled…whatever you were searching for, you could find it here.
The men who frequented this club were very rich. And very rich men tended to attract very beautiful women.
I watched as a man placed a collar on a stunning Brazilian girl and began leading her to the VIP area downstairs.
My cock strained against my pants. Not because I had any interest in the Brazilian girl – no, quite the opposite. All of these women were nothing compared to Charlotte, with her curvy hips and voluptuous body, her gorgeous tits and pouty little lips. I was hard because I couldn’t stop thinking about her, imagining how innocent she was, how cute her little tantrum had been earlier in the lobby of her building.
You shouldn’t have invited her here.
I knew that.
But I couldn’t resist.
I needed to make her mine. It was pull I hadn’t felt toward anyone since Nora, and even Nora… I didn’t remember it being like this.
A blond waitress in a skintight silver minidress came over.
“Would you like more champagne, sir?” she asked. Her eyes never left the ground. The waitresses had been taught not to make eye contact with the clients of the club.
“No, thank you,” I said.
“Let me know if you need anything else, sir.” She set a collar down on the table next to me before moving on to the next table.
I reached out and wrapped my hand around the smooth leather ring. It was my collar for the night, to do with as I pleased.
I checked my watch.
9:07.
Charlotte was late.
Disappointment ran through me at the thought that she might not show.
She had to show.
I wanted her.
I needed her.
Tonight her training would begin.
END OF BOOK TWO
WHAT HE DEMANDS (What He Wants, Book Three)
by Hannah Ford
NOAH
9:10.
It was 9:10 and she still wasn’t here.
I took another sip of my drink and leaned back in the red leather booth. Had I spooked her in some way, perhaps with that talk in her lobby where I told her that in order for her to be with me, really be with me, she’d have to do things she’d never even considered?
She hadn’t seemed spooked.
In fact, she’d seemed eager and willing.
And according to the text she’d just sent me, she was ready to go, all dressed up in a sexy little black dress that hugged her curves. It drove me insane just looking at her. I couldn’t wait to fill her with my cock, to tie her up, to make her beg me to fuck her.
9:14.
I wondered if she was trying to mess with me, planning to arrive late in order to keep me guessing. The thought was amusing. If she wanted to play those kind of games, she was going to learn fast that there would be a price.
My dick hardened, thinking about the way she’d looked at me in the lobby earlier, telling me she wanted to understand, to learn. I wanted to teach her, to bring her into my world.
But she still wasn’t here.
Disappointment washed over me, and I was shocked to realize that if she didn’t show up, I would head home. I was surrounded by beautiful women, women who had been conditioned and primed to provide pleasure for the men who requested it. And yet all I could think about was Charlotte. Her lush curves, her fiery spirit, the way it felt to hold her close. She was innocent. Pure. Perfect.
Be careful, Noah. Don’t get too close.
I wouldn’t. If she wasn’t here by 9:20, I would leave. It would be better for me. And for her. I would have her fired from helping Colin Worthington. I would tell him it was nothing personal against her, that I just no longer felt comfortable having law students working on my case.
The police weren’t going to arrest me anyway. I was sure of it.
Stop being disappointed. She was too good for you. She would have never understood.
I surveyed the crowd on the dance floor, watching as a blonde girl in her mid-twenties was collared and led to the VIP room.
You should take another woman.
You have to.
Forget about Charlotte Holloway.
You need to get her out of your system.
Find another pussy you can bury your dick in, a woman who will let you do what you need.
That’s when I saw her.
Charlotte.
She was standing just inside the door, wearing that tight little black dress she’d sent me a picture of. High black stiletto heels were on her feet, and the fabric
of her dress gathered at her waist, showing off her curves and hugging that deliciously round ass. Even from here, I could tell she was wearing more make-up than usual. Her plump lips were done in a shade of red that made me harden. I couldn’t wait for her to suck me off, taking every last drop of my come down her pretty little throat.
She looked around, confused. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, and her eyes widened as she took in the fact that most of the women on the dance floor were scantily clad and grinding up on the men. She bit her lip as she watched a man reach out and put his hand on his date’s skirt, then pull it up and grab her ass in front of everyone.
It was this part – her naivety about sex and the world – that made her so irresistible. Her eyes scanned the room until they locked with mine. She began to make her way over to me.
She was ready to learn.
And I couldn’t wait to teach her.
CHARLOTTE
I spotted him sitting over in the corner, in a booth, one of those VIP ones that was raised up on a platform so that he could have a good look at everything that was going on beneath him.
I hated the thought of him looking at other women, hating thinking that he might have been up there looking at that girl’s ass and getting turned on. The women in this club were extremely beautiful. I knew as soon as Jared pulled the car up in front that I was out of my element.
I’d been to fancy bars before, of course. The place I’d been the other night for Cora’s bachelorette party was nice. But it was professional nice. Classy. The kind of place lawyers and professionals went.
The men here seemed like professionals. Or at least, they seemed rich. They were all wearing sophisticated, expensive-looking clothing. But the women looked like models. Shiny hair, tiny waists, perfect complexions. I was by far the biggest girl in the room, and I instantly felt self-conscious.
Everyone here was wearing designer dresses, and I was wearing a tight little mini-dress that Julia probably got at TJ Maxx. I’d felt beautiful back at the house when I was getting ready, but now I just felt out of place and bumbling.