by K. L. Kreig
“I want to fuck you, Nora.”
My chest heaves, the blush of my need deepening.
“Hard.”
I rub my thighs together, needing desperate relief.
“Rough.”
My breaths are choppy and uneven; oxygen is sacred.
“Dirty.”
Every nerve ending is alive. Exposed. His mere touch is almost excruciating.
“Bare.” He nuzzles my ear, whispering, “Nothing between us, princess.”
I freeze.
“I’d never put you in danger, Nora,” he adds swiftly.
Connelly’s been with a lot of women. I don’t know this for a fact, but I have to assume all of the rumors I’ve heard and read online have at least some shred of truth to them. Without more than a second’s hesitation, though, I give him my silent permission. I shouldn’t, I know this, but I want to feel him take me without any barriers as much as he does.
He’s mine as much as I’m his, if only for a short while.
With victory sparkling in his eyes, his hands skate down my sides, slowly gliding over my bunched skirt, then the smooth curves of my hips before he grips them with bruising force. One hand holds tightly to me while the other disappears behind him. I hear the mechanics of his slacks being worked and suck in a sharp breath when the other dives between my legs.
“Shit, Nora. You are so ready for me,” he grates, leisurely pumping a single finger in and out, spreading my unerring need all over.
I squirm. It’s not enough. I need more.
“Last night I branded your soul,” he continues, his voice a hoarse whisper. “Today I’m branding your body.”
That’s all the warning I get as he grabs my hips, cocks them back and slams inside me in one savage thrust.
Oh, fuck.
“Jesus, you feel incredible. So fucking good. Fuck, Nora.” His voice is hard and rough. Like his grip. Like his cock.
My head falls forward and my eyes fall shut until he orders me to open them. My lids are heavy, the intense pleasure in my core drawing them closed.
“Eyes,” he barks, never letting up on his ruthless assault.
With great effort, I comply. And the second I do, I connect on an entirely different plane than I have with another human being. Ever.
It’s intense.
It’s passionate.
It’s feral.
It’s soul stealing and life altering.
“I love you,” I blurt, unable to keep the words in any longer. I admitted it last night, but I never said those three little words I’ve only ever uttered to him.
He freezes midstroke, eyes going wide. “Say it again,” he demands thickly. He squeezes me hard, his cock pulsing inside me with the need to pillage. “Again.”
“I love you. I love you, Connelly.”
His eyes close in pure, utter rapture and my breath is stolen for an entirely different reason.
Can you recall a specific moment in your life with such vivid clarity you’d swear it just happened yesterday, but in reality it was days ago…months ago…years ago, even?
This is one of those instances. The sheer joy I see right now on Connelly’s face is the same way he looked when I told him I loved him for the very first time. I’ve never forgotten it, just like I will never forget this. Another selfish maneuver on my part, but I need him to know how much I love him before I destroy him.
When he starts thrusting again, it’s brutal and merciless, with single-minded intent. “Scream my name, Nora. Come apart for me.”
I have never come on demand and I’ve never come from penetration alone. It always, always takes me a while to get my engine revved, and I always need clit stimulation, yet this is different. Even before he uttered his command, I was there.
The coarseness of his clothes abrading the backs of my thighs, the firmness of his strokes inside my swollen sex and the ferocity of his stare have already thrown me headlong into the most intense orgasm I’ve ever experienced at the hands of anyone.
As my body shudders under his touch, I feel myself float. I hear myself cry his name. I watch myself reduced to nothing but a swirling liquid mass of gratification as he brands me his.
Then Connelly is following on a string of muttered curses.
“Oh, fuck, yes.” He tenses, growls, and pours his seed into my womb in a few hard thrusts, his head thrown back, his face tight and strained.
I watch the man who always held tightly to the reins of control lose it because of me. My femininity swells with pride.
Sagging against me, Connelly’s lips dance lightly on my shoulder, tickling. Our sweat mingles while his semen trickles down my inner thigh. I am utterly replete. Sadness tries to shove her way in, shattering the moment, but I heave her out. I need to bask in this feeling in case I never experience it again.
“I love you, Nora. God, I love you so damn much,” he mutters before taking my lobe gently between his teeth. The reverent words sink through my skin, staunching the hemorrhage that’s slowly been killing me.
I reach around and press his head against me, holding his cheek to mine. “Not more than I love you.”
As our bodies cool and our breaths even out, I know although this was the most violent, swift coupling I’ve ever experienced, the hollow place inside me that’s been empty is finally gone.
I only wish it could last.
Chapter 16
Nora
Within two minutes after sitting down at a secluded table in the dimly lit Chez Phillippe, I understand why Connelly wanted to accompany me to this meeting. He warned me on the ride from the airport to the Peabody that Alred Kinnick is “old-fashioned.” Said he’s challenging to please, hard to work with.
What I see he really meant was that Alred Kinnick is a misogynist pig who disguises it under artificial Southern charm and feigned interest. He leaves an instant bitter taste in my mouth, but I paste on my own fakery and forge ahead as I always do with men like this. Men who think a woman’s place is doing their laundry before sticking their ass in the air solely for their pleasure. I wonder how Kinnick Investments ended up with a CEO who doesn’t have a ball sack hanging between her legs and I have to believe it wasn’t this man’s doing. Now things are starting to make more sense. I also wonder how Connelly knows such a jackass. They seem pretty tight.
“So, this is your new star pupil, eh, Conn?”
Connelly’s face tightens almost imperceptibly. A brief glance at I’m-stuck-in-the-stone-ages shows he’s clueless. I contain my eye roll. Asswipe doesn’t even bother looking at me when he speaks, a fact Connelly doesn’t miss.
“Nora is one of the incredible talents we acquired with the SER deal, yes.” He takes a casual drink of his Scotch, neat, but irritation wafts from him in rolling waves. His annoyance fogs over the entire corner of the room. Sometimes, I think I’m the only one who can pick up on Connelly’s subtle clues. That thought makes me smile to myself.
“Well, I’d say you’ve done very well, son. She’s fine. Very fine indeed,” he purrs.
What the fucking hell does that mean?
“What are you looking for in a CEO, Mr. Kinnick?” I ask, trying to get back on task. The faster this meeting is over with, the sooner I can get the hell out of his cloying presence. I already know this is one position I’ll be working my ass to fill quickly. Like tomorrow.
Kinnick’s beady black eyes meet mine for the first time since we sat down. “Please, Nora. Call me Al.”
Oh, I could call you a lot of things, but Al would be at the very bottom of my very long list, asshole. I smile. It feels thin and condescending. I hope Mr. Clueless doesn’t catch on.
He doesn’t.
“Minimum fifteen years experience in an executive position. An ideal candidate is one who’s been groomed within his or her own company and touched all major areas: finance, research and development, acquisitions and divestitures. Background in investments is a must. Of course, education is…”
I listen to the pudgy, red-faced, gr
ay-haired chairman of the board drone on for several more minutes, nearly oblivious to what he’s saying. It will be a repeat of what I’ve heard hundreds of times before anyway.
Instead, all I can think about is the man sitting next to me, watching me, and how my heart is racing so fast because of nerves, I wonder if I’ll need a defibrillator soon. I think I saw one hanging on the wall on my way in.
I force myself back to the conversation instead of remembering what it felt like to be completely owned by Connelly just mere hours ago. And just in time, too, because both men are looking at me, waiting for my response.
“With all due respect, Mr. Kinnick, that’s just a resume. What are your short- and long-term goals for Kinnick Investments? Do you have a target stock price you’re aiming for? Do you want to expand further into the global markets? Are you looking for a puppet or a leader? Do you want a groundbreaker or steadfast, long-term leadership? This will be the fourth CEO in ten years and that’s a lot of upheaval for any organization to endure. So the question isn’t about what Ivy League school your next CEO attended or how many letters he or she has behind their name. That’s all a given when I look for the right fit for my clients. The question really is where exactly do you want your next CEO to take Kinnick Investments in the future?”
I’m not sure where my tirade came from. While these are the typical questions I ask, I usually find a more politically correct way to frame them besides just blasting them out like a firing squad, but God. Damn. This arrogant prick set me off by virtually ignoring my mere existence until just moments ago.
I chance a glance at Connelly and the look on his face can be described as nothing short of pride. Unabashed pride. I flash him a quick smile before turning my attentions back to the old codger sitting across from me who drinks too much and probably has limp-dick syndrome, which he seems to be trying to make up for in other ways.
Just when I’m sure I’ve blown it, a slow, appreciative smile forces his dried lips open. I then know I’ve hit the nail square on the head. “I think I like her.” He’s speaking to Connelly, but his impressed eyes never leave mine.
Next to me I hear Connelly say quietly, “Me too.”
My heart skips a beat. That soft acknowledgment from Connelly means more to me than any words of praise this douche across from me could ever say.
* * *
“That guy is an egotistical jackass,” I say, punching the up arrow, hard, on the elevator, wishing it were Kinnick’s eyeballs instead.
“He was impressed. That’s hard to do.”
“You mean for someone who has tits?” I scoff. I don’t know why I’m so irritated. The rest of the evening went well. Compared to the first ten minutes, you’d think I’d always been part of their special little group. No fucking thanks. I’d rather eat nails.
He chuckles, placing his hand on my back. That seems to be one of his favorite spots on me. I can’t believe how much I like the feel of it already. “Yes, that’s what I mean. They’re very nice ones, by the way,” he whispers in my ear, heat flowing like magma through me. I want him. Again. And again. That’s practically all I could think about through dinner as if having sex twice in the last twenty-four hours hasn’t been enough.
“How do you know him?” I prod, trying to tamp down my libido. It’s only eight-thirty, but I’m emotionally exhausted and physically drained from not sleeping a wink last night. I feel a migraine coming on. I need sleep.
“He’s an old friend of my father’s. I would say he’s a nice guy once you get to know him, but that would be a lie. He’s a grade-A bastard.”
“Then why assign this case to me? I could do with fewer bastards in my life.”
The steel door finally parts and we enter. Connelly punches the button for the fourteenth floor. I reach toward the panel to push my floor, eight, when he yanks my hand back, using it to tug me into him.
“What are you doing?” I ask on a short breath as he pins me between the wood paneling and his rock-hard body.
One look from Connelly could always make me pant, make me wet, make me submit to his every wicked whim. One touch, though…one touch and I crumble helplessly.
“Answering your question. I assigned you to this case because I wanted to spend time with you and I knew this was the only way you would let me.”
I frown, anger rising to the surface. I open my mouth to give him a piece of my redheaded mind when he adds, “And because I knew if anyone could handle that chauvinist, you could, Nora. I was impressed. You are as brilliant as I’ve heard.”
And just like that, my fury deflates like a balloon that’s had the knot loosened.
“Thank you,” I mumble.
Pressing his groin into my belly, he grasps my wrists in one hand and raises them above my head. Lowering his mouth to my neck, he rumbles between wet kisses, “Every word made me harder. I need to be inside you again. I can’t fucking get enough of you.”
“God.” I pull in a sharp breath when he sucks painfully on the swell of my breast. Heat licks along my skin, racing straight between my legs.
“You’re coming back to my room.”
“That’s kind of presumptuous, don’t you think?” I pant, eyes rolling in the back of my head. I burn everywhere.
Every woman has her favorite place to be kissed. For some, it’s as simple as the mouth. For others, it may be her inner thigh, behind the knees, or a nip on her lobe. For me, though? It’s definitely the neck. And with each warm caress of Connelly’s lips and hot swirl of his tongue, my willpower unwinds like a tossed spool of thread.
“Is it?” he asks. His free hand travels down my leg until it reaches the hem of my skirt. I groan when it slips under and slides back up, reaching my bare pussy. My bare, wet pussy. Talented fingers skim across my sex and the light scrape of his dull nails fires the burn in my core into a raging volcanic eruption.
I barely had time to get freshened up and call Zel after we checked in. I completely forgot my panties were currently being held prisoner in Connelly’s suit jacket pocket until I sat down at the dinner table. At one point during the meal, Connelly slipped his hand inside, palming them, sliding a shit-eating grin my way when he subtlety brought his fingers to his nose. I was instantly wet, pressing my thighs tighter to keep moisture from staining my skirt.
“I have my own room,” I tell him, even though we just passed the floor where mine is.
“Not anymore,” he replies in a husky tone, right before he captures my mouth in a scorching kiss at the same time he thrusts two fingers inside me. I’m wet, so damn wet, and he slides in easily.
“Ahhh,” I moan loudly.
“That is so sexy to know I do this to you.”
He kicks one of my feet to the side, spreading my legs wide. Oh-so-achingly slowly, he finger-fucks me, thumbing my clit. Everything around me falls away as I let pleasure consume me. All I know is him. All I need is release.
I can taste the sweet kernel of my climax when suddenly I’m being pulled from the steel box and dragged down a hallway. Everything else is a blur, darkened by this growing need inside me.
“Connelly—”
“No more objections, Nora,” he demands gruffly, his grip tightening as if he thinks I may bolt.
I won’t. Not this time.
He stops in front of a double door and pulls out a key card. The gold-plated sign on the wall indicates we’re at the Presidential Suite. When he silently ushers me in, I don’t even get a chance to look around before I’m being scooped up in his strong, sinewy arms and carried through the biggest, most luxurious hotel room I’ve ever been in.
“I was just going to say I need my stuff.” I lean up, running the tip of my tongue under the delicate skin behind his ear. The throaty, sexy rumble he makes causes my nipples to tingle.
“Taken care of.”
“Wow. That’s kind of intrusive. What if I’d said no?”
Walking through white French doors, he deposits me onto the plush carpet of a massive-sized bedroom decorated
in muted yellows and pumpkin oranges. A chandelier hanging from the ceiling above the king-sized bed throws soft light around the interior, setting the sultry mood perfectly.
“I can be very convincing.”
Yes. You always have been.
I feel the same aggression coming off him as I did earlier when he took me in the plane, so I expect he’ll rip my clothes off and ravage me. He does the complete opposite.
Craddling my face in his big hands, he just gazes at me quietly for the longest time. It’s soft. Tender. Loving. It almost ruins me. He’s searching for something I don’t want him to find. If he does...this fantasy I’ve foolishly immersed myself in will all be over. I know my time is almost up anyway. I’m panicking at the need to hold on to it just a little bit longer.
“Are you real?”
My eyes prick.
I nod because I can’t speak. His question stole my voice.
“I love you so much, Nora. It’s terrifying how much I feel my very breath will die if you walk away from me again. I’m trying so damn hard to tie to you to me forever, but I feel like I’m one crumbling step away from losing you. I can’t lose you again, Nora. I just fucking can’t. I can’t.”
The bottled-up emotion in his unsteady, desperate voice, as if he’s seconds away from cracking, slays me. I want to dissolve at his feet and weep and beg for forgiveness I’ll never deserve.
I try to speak.
Impossible.
I try to swallow.
My mouth is bone-dry. Even if I could, it would never get past the lump of betrayal sitting hard in my throat.
Suddenly the last thing I can do is lead him on any further. I need to do the right thing. For once. I must get this unbearable mass of guilt off my chest that’s holding me down, threatening to drown me in self-reproach.
“We should talk,” I manage to choke. I try to step back so I can think, breathe. I need to wrap my arms around my middle and try like fuck to hold myself together while my confession breaks him apart.
He starts nodding his head but tightens his hold. “You’re right. We should. We need to. And we will. Just not tonight.”