by Leah Holt
“How badly have you wanted this?” The words escaped through fierce licks of our tongue.
“More than you could realize.” Her eyes hardened, flickering with raw desire. Her skin was warm, flushed, and no longer ivory. Cadence was feral, driven by a wanton need to have what her body was demanding.
Inhaling heavily, her perfume crept through my senses. Prickles shot off her skin with the sound of my breath, another moan slipped off her tongue.
Bringing my lips to her neck, I caressed the soft skin with my mouth. Her flavor was just as sweet as I imagined. She was salty, lust-filled, and making my taste buds burst.
She lifted her leg around my hip, pussy pressing back against my cock, tenting my jeans. Gripping her ass, I ground her harder into the wall. “You want to know what it would feel like to have my cock inside that cunt?” My fingertips tickled her pussy, the wet center hot and eager.
Knowing I had the power to tear through the fabric separating her heat from my fingertips, made me shudder. I wanted to split her, ruin her, make her mine.
She locked her lips tighter around my mouth, shaking her head 'yes,' then 'no.' Leaning back, her face fell towards the floor, then back up.
“Tell me what you want, tell me.” Gyrating my hips, I rubbed my cock against her swelling button.
“I want this, but I can't.”
Why is she pulling away?
The intense sweltering heat she threw on me was cooling. I couldn't understand where her head had gone, what was drawing her away from me?
Searching my eyes, she wanted to speak, but spit only air. Her lungs heaved wildly behind her chest. “I don't know what I want,” the whisper vibrated over my skin. Pressing her hands against my chest, she let her head fall, sighing intensely. “Why the fuck did you have to do that? You made me weak. Why couldn't you have just minded your own business? He would have left eventually.”
I dug my fingers into her shoulders. “What? Seriously?” Taking a step back, my hand ran over my jaw. “Mind my business?” My voice went taunt, a single brow arched, and perplexed.
Is she fucking kidding me? She wanted me to stand by and just watch that prick verbally assault her!?
Pacing around in small circles, I couldn't believe that she was upset I helped. Was that... No, is that what she thinks a man should do? Should say?
“The minute that asshole raised his voice to you, it became my business. No man should ever... EVER talk to a woman like that. And I'm not some dirt bag who's going to stand by and watch that shit.” Shaking my head, I stared at her in disbelief.
Cadence slid down against the wall, arms falling to rest on her knees. “Look, I appreciated it, I did. Nico deserved to have his ass handed to him. But, now—” Her hands ran over her hair, pulling it tightly against her skull.
“Now, what? Go ahead, finish.”
“It doesn't matter, forget it,” she huffed out. Staring up at me, her shoulders slumped forward heavily.
The crisp silence, so sharp it could slice glass, was broken by the loud ring of her cell phone. Cadence jumped with surprise, every muscle jolting in one quick leap. Pulling the phone from her pocket, she peered at the screen. “Shit. It's my dad.”
“Aren't you going to answer it?” My arms folded up across my chest, leaning back against the wall, I bent a knee up.
“No. He's probably pissed, and I don't want to hear it right now. I should have been back a long time ago.” Releasing a grunt of frustration, her hand came down and slapped the floor. “Are you still coming with me? I need to know now, if not, then I'm fucked.”
Fucked? Why would she be fucked?
She wasn't making any sense.
It doesn't matter. I told her I would go.
And my word weighs more than gold.
Leaning down, I looked into the deep ocean of her gaze. Wonder, confusion, and fear swam beneath the vastness.
Placing my hands on her knees, I spoke softly. “Cadence, I told you I would. And I always follow through with what I say.”
I hope that's something she can remember.
What I say, I stand by.
Chapter Four
Quinn
The subway was a place I loathed. It was always full of hoards of people, squished together liked canned tuna. I fucking hated it. I wanted to walk back, but she insisted we needed to get to the bar quickly.
There were two options, walk or take the train. With the amount of traffic, a taxi would be pointless, and according to Cadence, time was limited.
The only bonus to this ride was standing hip to hip with her. I had been inches away from fucking her in that bathroom. Had it not been for the hesitance she had, I would have ripped her damn pants off.
My cock was aching to slide into her silky, wet pussy. Her hard nipples had pressed against my chest, poking out from her shirt, calling me to bite them.
Since we left the diner, she wouldn't look me straight in the eyes. Instead, they darted around my body, looking every where but at me directly. She would stare at my arms, my chest, even my tongue as I spoke.
I knew Cadence wanted me just as badly as I wanted her. It rolled off her body like a waterfall, flowing from every piece of her flesh. Each prickle that burst off her skin with the slightest touch of my hand caused my cock to thicken.
Purposely, I would trail my fingers over her neck, and run them gently down her hand. With each touch she would tremble, I could see her body shudder. No matter how much she tried, she couldn't stop herself from reacting to me.
And I fucking loved it.
The reaction was thrilling. I wanted to watch her squirm beside me, forcing herself to hold back. Her tongue would run over her lips, her head would tilt with each subtle stroke.
But secretly, I wanted to make sure every asshole on this train knew she was mine.
Once we hit the sidewalk, she walked three feet in front of me, her pace quickening with each stride. Occasionally, she would glance over her shoulder to see if I was still there.
And I couldn't stop wondering what she meant back at the diner. Her words played on repeat in my head, 'I'm fucked.' But it wasn't fitting in my brain, she didn't do anything wrong.
Was this meeting also to prove that she was telling the truth?
Did her father question what had happened?
Cadence paused at the entrance to Whiskey Sour, her fingers gripping the handle softly, face leaning towards the ground. “Okay, before we go in, I do want to say thank you, and I mean that.” A thin smile pulled gently across her cheeks as her eyes mollified her feelings.
I wanted to kiss her again, run my tongue over the velvet touch of her lips. Deep down, my stomach twisted from a tactile sensation that I hadn't experienced before.
Reaching my arm out, I squeezed her shoulder. The lean muscles tensed, and her back straightened. Cadence drew in a long sullen breath as she tugged the door open.
Standing behind her, a whirl of her perfume slapped against my face. The scent was erotic, yanking on my nose to lean in closer.
Damn! Even her smell is a fucking turn on.
The hair on my neck raised up, cock stiffening. I wanted to grab her ass, tear into her with my massive, throbbing hard-on.
Her pussy had been warm to the touch earlier, she wanted me, I knew that for sure. The heated cunt, slippery between her thighs, had called for me.
And I was ready—had been ready, to fuck her like she's never felt before.
But the moment she stepped inside that building, her whole demeanor changed. A wave of seriousness flooded her expression; her jaw was held in tight, eyes contracted, squeezing their natural impulse to move.
This was her domain, her place of existence.
Being here with the sun shining high above the sky was strange. I'd never been in a bar before happy hour, and never left seeing completely straight.
A milky colored hue floated over the room, streams of light poured in from the ceiling above through glass tinted a dull shade of yellow.
I h
adn't noticed the skylights the night before; then again, how often do you look up when you're out getting shitfaced?
Our feet echoed across the empty space, hers were much lighter, mimicking the soft tap of ballet slippers. A translucent mirage of her dancing around serving drinks coated my brain, my head felt suffocated, drained from the oxygen being squeezed out.
My fingers wanted to walk across her hips, yank her back, and press my cock in between her thighs. All to give her a taste of what I had to offer. It took everything I had to keep them by my side. Eagerly, they flurried over my jeans, their rhythmical movements tapping against the coarse material.
A subtle melody whispered through the speakers hitting my ears, the violins played utter benignity; angelic and soft, soothing to the senses.
Distracted by my thoughts, I almost walked through her. Cadence reached up and pressed against my chest. “Wait here,” she rustled out, palm held open.
Our eyes locked briefly, small creases rested above arched brows, no waver of a grin. Her lips spread razor-thin as she disappeared through a rickety old door behind the bar.
Why does she look so... bitter?
If I'm here because her father wants to thank me, why does all the life seem to have drained from her?
There was no making sense of this woman; she wants me, she resists me. Strength peeks out and shyness mantles her uncertainty.
What she didn't realize, or refused to realize, is how that only drives me harder. I'm not one to give up or walk away.
If she can't make up her mind, I'll do it for her.
Leaning against the wood bar, I listened to the muffled voices seep from behind the fractured surface of the door. I could hear the tones, the rise and fall of pitch, but nothing more.
Sliding onto a stool, its once bright red facade, now cracked and stained. Cotton wisps reached out from beneath the broken surface, tickling my hands as I sat.
I hoped that after this meeting was done, I would finally get what I wanted.
Cadence.
She had teased me enough. Her pussy was going to be mine, no more fucking games.
Setting my elbows down, my fingers braided each other impatiently.
What are they talking about in there? You might think I was here to see the damn president.
Clicking my tongue, I was ready to do this, and go home. I'd been up for almost twenty-four hours. Exhaustion was trying to wriggle its way into my bones. I had shaken it off for some time now, it wouldn't be long before I just collapsed, unable to fight it anymore.
A creek of the hinges drew my attention up. The door parted slowly, and Cadence emerged. “He's ready for you now.” Her eyes darted around my face, never meeting them full on.
“Okay,” I said, the single word drew out over my tongue. The whole situation began to reek of decaying garbage, it was quite the production to just say 'thank you.'
Her hand came up and wiped her cheek, nose scrunched with a sniffle. Had she been crying? What the fuck is going on here? Was she screwing with me?
She had said she'd be fucked if I didn't come back with her.
But I couldn't understand why?
What the hell was the big deal?
Things just weren't making sense, nothing fit together. A father who wants to commend the man who protected his daughter, would have met them at the door. A hand, strong and firm, would've been ready to give praise.
Instead, the pit forming in my stomach said this was something else.
Blocking the path to the door, she stood with her lips moving as if she wanted to speak, but couldn't find her voice.
“Are you going to let me by?” A light chuckle escaped as I watched her hands rub together nervously.
“Quinn, be polite, don't get smart with him.” Confusion fell across my face, my eyes went crooked, mouth stout. Her hands came up in defense. “It's just that my dad... he's.. he's a respected man, old fashioned in a way. And people who get mouthy with him, well, it usually doesn't go over well.”
“Thanks for the warning, Doll. I'm sure I've got this.” Nodding my head, I pinched the fabric covering my shoulders.
“Look, I know my dad, and I know your type-”
Cutting her off I asked, “My type?” arching one brow.
“Yes, your type. Cocky, headstrong, a smart ass.” Her lip quivered, hand caressing the back of her neck.
I brought my hand up to halt the barrage. “Alright, alright. I get your point.”
“No matter what he says to you, I'm just asking that you be nice is all.” Her finger pushed against her bottom lip, chewing on the skin. “Forget it,” she spat quickly, moving to the side. “Forget I said anything, just go talk to him.” She rubbed her forehead, looking towards me under hooded lids.
Gliding my fingers over her hair, she jumped back, glancing at the door. “Don't worry, your father is going to love me.”
Turning away from her, I gripped the cold glass knob. It was flashy, different cut angles glistened with the dull lighting.
Electric nerves sparked from head to toe, a rush of uncertainty and discomfort sat heavy like lead in my gut.
I didn't remember ever feeling so uneasy about meeting a girl's father. Especially since this one actually wanted to meet me.
'Clank, clank.' My knuckles burned against the wood.
“Come in.” A deep voice, barely a whisper above the music, called out.
Opening the door, I stepped inside. The scent of cheap cigars hung in the air. A small lamp, hardly emitting enough light to give a full spectrum to the room, rested on the desk.
“Close the door, please.” The man, who I assumed was Cadence's father, pulled a long, drawn out inhale on his cigar. A roll of smoke lit up as it cascaded by the lamp. The ghostly wave flowed out, swirling across the single chair set before his desk.
“Hello, I'm Quinn.” Stepping forward, I held my hand out. “Be polite,” her guidance sat like molasses in the back of my brain.
“I'm aware of who you are, Quinn. I'm Louis.” His massive hand gripped firmly, a bear size paw wrapped around my fingers, comparable in size to mine. “Sit,” he said, leaning back, forefingers straightened, pressing against his mouth.
Lowering into the chair, I could barely squeeze in. The seat looked old, made during an era where men my size hardly existed. The arms clenched around my hips, causing me to angle one side just to hit the cushion. Comfort was nonexistent, my ass was sore as shit after a few seconds.
Despite the music, an eerie silence paraded through the room. He sat, staring into me. “Do you know why you're here?” His hands fell towards the desk, chest following to hover right above the detailed mahogany.
“Cadence told me you wanted to see me and thank me for last night.” Squinting my lids, my forehead raised to my hair line.
What kind of question is that?
“Yes, Cadence, and the debacle in my bar.” He lifted his cigar from the tray that cradled it. “But, to thank you, no.” Dragging the long ash head across the edge, a sinister grin spilled from his face as it crumbled into dust.
What the fuck? Had she lied to me?
Filled me with a bullshit story, but for what?
My body tensed, I felt trapped, uncertain of what his intentions were. “Then what the hell am I here for?”
She wanted me to mind myself, be nice and not mouth off to her dad, but these types of games didn't sit well with me.
Will I play nice to get what I want? Absolutely.
Will I chase a wet pussy? Absolutely.
Will I stand by and be mind fucked? Not a chance in hell.
Opening a small oak box on the desk, her father turned it towards me. “Cigar?” he asked. His yellow teeth were a shade of orange under the light.
Shaking my head no, I gripped the arms of the chair. The wood was so brittle, I could feel it splintering beneath my palms. “You didn't answer me. I asked you why I was here?” My brows narrowed, eyes glaring down.
Pulling a cigar from the box, he ran it unde
r his nose, inhaling heavily. “These are expensive. Do you know how much a single one costs, Quinn?” His fingers twirled around the securely wrapped casing.
Was this what she meant by 'be polite?'
So I was just supposed to sit here and listen to this man babble nonsense, asking me questions about things that don't have any relevance?
Did she really expect me to just be nodding in agreement at his pathetic attempts to pull me into conversation?
There was only so much patience I'd be able to muster up. I couldn't see myself sitting there, listening to him talk circles around shit I didn't care about.
“Get to the point.” My arm lifted, a single finger spinning for him to move on.
“The man you had it out with, do you know who he is?” Louis slid the cigar back into the box, pushing it out of the way, his hands folded together.
“A dick named Nico, who was treating your daughter like shit.” Shifting in the chair to the other side, a cracking sound spread through the seat. I half expected it to give way, splitting in two, landing me on my ass.
“That dick... Makes me a lot of money. Probably more money than you've ever laid eyes on.” His hands squeezed together tighter, thumbs sliding side by side. His lips barely moved as he spoke.
I don't really give two flying fucks about who or what Nico was to him. He didn't mean shit to me. All I saw was a scared little prick, using his size to threaten a woman.
“Are you saying that you don't care that he talked to your daughter like she was a fucking maid, like she was supposed to jump when he spoke?” The words rode my tongue, forced out through gritted teeth. “Because I just met your daughter, and I wasn't going to let him do that.”
Rage started to wrap around my muscles, its grip filtering through each thread. I couldn't believe his passiveness over one of his own treating his daughter that way.
How could he just dismiss it?
Money or not, it doesn't make it right. Was his bank roll more important than his own blood?
“Quinn, that man works for me. Nico has an obligation he can't fulfill now because of you. So I need to know how you're going to fix that?” He sat motionless, no concern or care in his face. Lifeless eyes slithered around his head, waiting for an answer.