He grabs my hips and drags me off the table. “Bend over,” he orders. “Spread your legs.”
My tender nipples smash into the wooden surface. I feel his big, powerful hands grip my ass. I hear the tear of a condom wrapper. See the package flutter to the floor.
Then he slams into me in one deep, brutal stroke.
I cry out.
It feels right. It feels perfect.
It feels like coming home, and it terrifies me.
There’s a large mirror in my dining room. I put it there to make the space look bigger. Now, I lift my head.
I watch him as he thrusts into me, his face contorted with need.
I see myself, letting go and surrendering to him. I see the raw need in my eyes.
His thumb teases my puckered entrance. I stiffen, inhaling sharply.
“Is that a no?”
I consider his question. I’ve never done anal. I’ve always been curious, and I’ve always wanted to, but I’ve never trusted anyone enough to go there. Now, Julian’s playing with my ass, and once I get past the shock of it, I’m both intrigued and turned on.
If there's one person I trust to make it good for me and to make sure I enjoy myself, it's Julian. For all his arrogance, he is an incredibly generous and considerate lover. He pays attention. He pushes me exactly as hard as I need to be pushed.
How far is he going to go with this?
How far will I let him?
“It’s not a no.”
He spanks my ass, hard. “Then relax your muscles and stop fighting it, Dakota.”
“I’ve never done this. I don’t have any lube.”
“Don’t worry.” His voice is reassuring. “I’m not going to take your ass today.” He flashes me a grin. “You set the pace, sweetness. If you want me to fuck your ass, show up at my door with a bottle of lube and ask nicely.”
Oh, the incredible conceit of the man. “When pigs fly, King.”
He just laughs.
He fills me, his cock in my pussy, his thumb in my ass. He takes me, he possesses me, he claims me. He wraps his free hand around my hair and tugs my head up. “Watch yourself,” he growls. “I want you to see how beautiful you are. How uninhabited. How absolutely gorgeous. Look at how fearless you are. For a year, you’ve filled my memories, Dakota. For a year, I’ve thought of nothing other than you. I want to see you fall apart, Dakota. I want to see your face when you come.”
My breasts mash into the table. Each time he thrusts, my upper body is pushed forward, my nipples rubbing against the warm wooden surface of the table.
I don’t recognize the creature I see in the mirror, a woman whose face is contorted with lust. A woman who moans in abandon, nothing held back.
He called me fearless, and for the first time, I see myself the way that Julian sees me.
“Touch yourself,” he orders softly.
I move my fingers to my swollen clit. I stroke myself gently, shivers running through me. He’s so deep. He pushes into me, and it’s raw and powerful. My muscles grip him, quiver around him.
“I should make you wait,” he murmurs. “I should take you to the edge, over and over. I should torture you the way you’ve been torturing me for the last year.” He holds my gaze in the mirror. “But I’ll be generous.”
Grr. With superhuman composure, I refrain from strangling him. “I’ll come whenever I want, King. Besides, my fingers are doing all the work.”
“Really?” His eyebrow quirks. “My cock doesn’t have anything to do with it?” He pulls out, and I almost cry. His thick head nudges my folds. “Go ahead,” he invites, holding himself at my entrance with superhuman willpower. “Make yourself come.”
“You don't think I can?”
“Of course, you can.” His eyes meet mine. “I’ve touched myself for a year, imagining this moment. For a year, I’ve fantasized about sinking into you. Feeling you quiver around me. I’ve fantasized about your soft moans. About the heat in your eyes. So you tell me. If you want to use your fingers, when there’s a perfectly good cock waiting to make your fantasies come true, then knock yourself out.”
The raw honesty takes my breath away.
“Asshole,” I mumble.
He drags the head of his penis through my folds, and I break. “Please, push it in me. I want you.”
“What was that, darling?”
If it wasn't for the moment of pure honesty that preceded this, I tell him to fuck off. He pushes in me, and I clench my muscles around him. He inhales sharply. “Fuck, that feels good,” he groans. “I can’t hold on, sweetness. I need you too much.”
His thrusts turn wild and ragged. My fingers rub my swollen clit. His thumb fills my forbidden hole. It feels so wrong, but so weirdly arousing. Nerve endings I didn’t know I had are tingling, and I feel so very naughty.
I give into the pleasure. My arousal builds. I stand on tiptoe and spread my legs wider. Over and over, he slams into me.
Then the dam breaks. I shatter. Pleasure floods through my body. My muscles quiver. My toes curl. Through my haze of lust, I hear him growl, and then he explodes.
I look at our reflection in the mirror. Great. Last year, we’d made love in the living room and in my bedroom. Now, I’ve added the dining room to the list. Every time I’m going to sit at this table, I’m going to remember this moment.
I’m going to think of him.
Julian King is imprinting onto my life.
My earlier bravery is gone. I’m just afraid.
“Give me ten minutes to recover,” he says, running his fingers over my body, “And we’ll do that again.”
“Ten?”
“It’s a little optimistic, I give you,” he agrees. “What can I say? You make me optimistic, Dakota.”
Goosebumps rise on my skin, and I shiver as his words penetrate my fog of lust. Nothing can come of this.
We’re set up for conflict.
If I don’t get that permit, I’m in serious trouble. I’ll have to borrow money from my mom and from my brother. It’ll take me a few months to sell Neil Silver’s building, and I’ll probably take a loss on it. I won’t recover the money I’m paying Ben for the renovations.
If Julian wins the contest, would it change things between us?
I want to say no.
But I’m not sure.
I know that the people who deserve my anger are the five members of Town Council, who are putting us through this ridiculous contest.
However, if Julian wins the contest, I know it’ll impact the way I feel about him. It’s bitterly unfair, but I’ll blame him for my foiled expansion plans. Every time he talks about his restaurant, there’ll always be a small part of me that will begrudge him his success, that will believe that it came at my expense.
This is your fear again, putting up barriers between you and Julian.
Maybe. Or maybe we’re set up to implode.
Julian said he wants to date me. He’s always direct; he’s told me what he wants. The ball’s in my court.
I’m not brave enough to take that next step.
Tonight is all I can have.
“Ten minutes? I’m going to time you.”
He laughs, low and amused. “I’m insanely competitive, Dakota. I do my best work under pressure.” He pulls me on top of him and presses a kiss to my lips. “I’ll be ready.”
16
Julian
When I wake up in the morning, her bed is empty.
It’s deja vu all over again, but I’m not discouraged. Not after last night.
Dakota wants me. She might be afraid to take the next step, but she wants it.
I gave her a warning. I’m insanely competitive. I do my best work under pressure.
I intend to win.
Except I’m not fighting for the permit. I want something that’s far more important.
I want her.
Someone’s knocking on my door when I get out of the shower. I wrap a towel around myself and head downstairs. It’s Ward. “King,” he say
s. “Do you know how long I’ve been knocking?”
It’s good to see him. “You should have called.”
“I did,” he says pointedly. “I called last night to tell you I was going to be able to tear myself away from work; I went to voicemail. I’ve sent you five texts in the last three hours. Your phone is dead, Julian.”
“Ah. Sorry. I hadn’t noticed.” I give him a sheepish look and step out of the doorway. “I was at Dakota’s place.”
He walks in. “I’m delighted for you,” he says. “Now, put on some clothes, for fuck’s sake. Then you can tell me all about it.”
The sun is out again. It’s promising to be a glorious day. I pull on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, and head back downstairs. Ward’s looking out the window. “You’ve done a good job with the renovations. This place looks great.”
“It feels good to work with my hands.” I grab a couple of beers out of the refrigerator and hand Ward one.
He raises an eyebrow. “It’s ten. Isn’t it a little too early to start drinking?”
“It’s a long weekend. We’re on the beach.”
“Those are valid arguments.” He clinks his bottle against mine. “Tell me about the girl.”
I fill him in. “I thought everything was going great, and once again, she left in the morning.” I sigh. “Just like she did last year.”
“Maybe she just wants sex,” Ward says. “Maybe you’re the one who wants more than that.”
I shake my head. “That’s not it. I’ve told her I want to date her. If she just wanted sex, she’d tell me. She doesn’t do coy. It’s one of my favorite things about Dakota.”
“So instead she sleeps with you over and over and then runs away? She’s jerking you around, Julian.”
I glare at my best friend. “She’s not jerking me around,” I snap, immediately defensive of Dakota. “Her dad left when she was eleven. Of course, she’s going to have walls in place. Of course, she’s going to be wary. I would too.”
Ward gives me a smug grin, and I realize that the bastard was baiting me. “You’re a jerk, Lewington.”
“Takes one to know one. So, you’re serious about her.”
I nod. “I’m dead serious.” I drain the beer. “But it’s hard.”
“Stop whining, King. It’s not a good look.” Ward softens his words by getting up to get me another beer. “Trust me, I know hard. Every time I see Dixie with Charles, I want to walk away. And yet, I don’t.”
“Why don't you?”
“Because it's worth it,” he says simply. “I’d never made a move on Dixie while she’s with Charles. That’s not me. But if she breaks up with him…” His voice trails off.
“We’re a fine pair, you and I.”
He laughs shortly. “Since I don’t want to talk about my problems, let’s talk about yours. Life has been kind to you, Julian. No offense, but you’ve never had to really work for anything in your life.”
My beer freezes halfway to my mouth. “What the hell?”
“Yes, yes, I know you put in a lot of hours at BCF. That's not what I'm talking about. Everything has come easy to you. Other people study for their LSATs, you saunter in and ace them.”
I give my friend an irritated look. “That is a wild exaggeration.”
He ignores me. “Other people have student loans; your parents paid your way through law school. Both your mother and your father are partners at two of Canada’s most prominent law firms. Their connections opened doors for you.”
“I didn’t work at one of their firms,” I say defensively. “I wanted to make my own way through life. That’s why I went to BCF.”
“You own your trial record. You’re a fantastic litigator. Everything you achieved at BCF, you did on your own.” He fixes me with an intent look. “But you didn’t get that job on your own, Julian. Law’s a small world. At that level, everyone knows everyone. You’re Fredrick and Susan King’s son. You could have screwed up that interview, and they would have still considered hiring you as an associate. They wouldn’t have kept you around, but they would have given you a chance.”
I want to refute what he’s saying, but I can’t. I’m painfully aware of my privilege. My mentor, Yossef Halabi, moved from Cairo to Toronto in the mid-eighties. He’d been the first non-white partner at BCF. He’d been handed nothing; he’s fought for everything he’s earned.
“Then your grandmother dies and leaves you this.” He gestures to the cottage. “When you decide to leave law and start a business, you don’t have to take loans like ordinary people. You have a nest egg to fall back on.”
“I’m assuming there’s a point to this apart from making me feel like shit?”
“Things come easy to you, Julian. And then there's this girl, and for the first time, it’s not easy. So, you can either whine, or you can work for her.”
“You’re not listening to me. I’m already ready to do whatever it takes.”
“It might not work.”
“It doesn’t matter.” It isn't going to be easy, but I can't think of anything I want more. I don't care if I'm having the same conversation with Ward five years from now. Dakota is worth it.
“No hesitation, King?”
“None at all.” I lean back. “I need a plan.”
You and me, we’re still in competition for that restaurant permit.
I pull out my notebook. “The contest is putting us at odds,” I say aloud, crossing out the Sausage King from my to-do list. “First step, I need to drop the permit application.”
Ward looks up. “You’re giving up the restaurant?”
“I told you, Ward. Whatever it takes.” I frown in thought. A seed of an idea is taking shape in the back of my mind, but it’s not there yet. “I’m not quitting the contest yet. Someone sabotaged Dakota yesterday. I want to be there to keep an eye on things. But yeah, the restaurant’s off the list.”
He gives me a disapproving look. “You made an offer to Mrs. Shepperd. If you back away from it, you’ll put her in a bad place.”
“I’m not going to leave her hanging, Ward. I’m not backing away, not exactly. For starters, I’m not a total dickhead. Also, this town is Dakota’s home. The people here are her friends. I’m not going to screw things up for her.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Mrs. Shepperd doesn’t really want to sell. She likes making ice cream and wants to let somebody else handle the business. She needs two things. Bridge financing, and a partner.”
Ward quirks an eyebrow. “You?”
I shrug. “If she’s interested, yes. There’s nothing to it. She just needs someone to do her books.”
He laughs. “I’m the accountant, not you. Taking over my territory?”
“God, no. You can keep your numbers. This is not complicated bookkeeping, Ward. I do it for the Sausage King. It’s just keeping track of expenses, advertising ROI, that kind of thing. You could do it in your sleep.”
“So that’s the plan.”
“It’s the first part of it. I’m clearing the decks.” I point my beer bottle at him. “I want Dakota. This is going to take all my focus. All my effort.”
You and me, we’re still in competition for that restaurant permit.
Not anymore.
Your move, Dakota Wilde.
17
Dakota
Julian is gone by the time I get back.
He’s received my message, then. I know I should be relieved that he’s not still here, but I feel empty inside. Drained. I feel like I’m stomping on something special.
I wish I wasn’t such a pussy, but that's just the way it is. Things might be easier if I didn’t love Julian so much…
I stop dead in my tracks.
Fuck.
Dakota, you fool. You’ve gone and fallen in love with Julian King.
I stagger to my couch and sink down on it. I stare blankly at the wall. I’m in love with him. After fighting it for a year, after avoiding him as much as I could, hoping the attraction would f
ade, I’ve still managed to fall for Julian King.
Of all the stupid things to do, this has to be the stupidest.
My phone rings. It’s my mother. “Dakota,” she says, sounding harried. “Can you grab some hamburger buns at the store on your way here? It’s such a nice day, I thought we’d grill burgers and eat on the deck.”
Crap. Lunch with my mother. A Sunday staple. I totally forgot all about it.
There's part of me that wants to call it off, lie in bed all day, and wallow in my misery, but if I bail, my mother will have a million questions. “Sure.”
At lunch, the main topic of conversation is the contest. “What really happened yesterday?” Dom asks me. “Why did I need to run to the store in the last minute?”
I explain about the sauce. My mom, Dom, and Cat look appropriately horrified. “I got to the park close to the end,” my mom says. “I missed all that.” She gives me a proud smile. “And despite that, you finished second?”
“Do you know who did it?” Dom says. “Was it King? Do I need to punch him in the face?”
I give my twin a death glare, but it’s too late. My mother leans forward. “Julian, that nice young man who made sausages for Elise's party?” She frowns in puzzlement. “I thought the two of you were friends, Dakota. Why would he sabotage you?”
I swear I'm going to make Dom pay. As soon as I get done with this conversation, I'm bringing the topic around to grandchildren. Yes, that screws over Cat a little bit too, but she made her choice when she got engaged to my brother.
“No, Julian didn't sabotage me. That's not his style. It was probably one of the other contestants. I'll just have to be careful not to leave my stuff unattended.” I shrug, hoping they’d drop it. “The Alfredo was a huge hit, and so all's well that ends well.”
I’m about to bring the topic around to babies when Dom glances at his phone. “Oh, would you believe it?” he says innocently. “We have to go. Cat needs to stop in at the brewery.” He gets to his feet and kisses my mother. “See you next week.”
Sausage King: An Enemies to Lovers Romantic Comedy Page 10