Now, all I want to do is clear this elevator and take her on our own private ride. Before I can move to press my swollen manhood against her, the doors slide open. We pour out into the lobby. She’s three steps ahead of me. I’ll be damned if I’m going to run to catch up.
Part of me wants to do it anyways, though. Like I’m still the lovesick teenager I used to be.
She leads me into a coffee shop on the lower floor of her building. I wait in line behind her. I’m having a harder than expected time keeping my head on straight.
Part of it is the scent of her. The way she looks. How she holds herself. It’s intoxicating. Sexy. I want to find a place where I can bend her over and drive into her until she doesn’t have defenses left strong enough to keep pretending to resist me.
When we get up to the front, I watch how the barista—a guy who’s probably not even out of college yet—responds to her. There’s no denying she’s a beauty—built like a porn-star princess with an ass like a melon and a smile that lights up the room. Not to mention those pouty fucking lips that look so good wrapped around my dick. If this chump looks at her one more time with that little come-get-me grin under his designer stubble, I’m going to go across the counter and kick his ass.
She’s beautiful and he knows it. I know it. Everyone who’s ever met or even seen her knows it. I hand him cash to pay for our drinks.
Corrie turns and scowls. “I’m perfectly capable of paying for my own drink.”
“I didn’t say you weren’t. I’m well aware you can afford a six-dollar cup of whatever the fuck is.” It sure as hell isn’t coffee. Coffee doesn’t froth, doesn’t smell like an overpriced candle.
“I wanted to buy it,” she snaps.
She tosses her head like an angry lioness. The motion is probably supposed to stress her anger, but it only draws my eye back to her delicious breasts. Between that, the flush in her cheeks, and throb of her pulse just under her jaw, it seems like my dick will remain rock hard for the foreseeable future.
My shrug of a reply is casual. The knot in my gut when I look at her is anything but that.
“Christ, you’re an asshole sometimes,” she says. “You never did know how to use your words. All you ever do is shrug this, shrug that.”
I shift to relieve the pressure building behind my zipper as we move to take a seat at a table in the corner. We probably have to have a conversation before she’ll let me take her into the bathroom and work out this tension between us. So, I take a quiet, deep breath and count to ten, then add on another ten when I’m still hard enough to hammer nails with this log between my legs.
She’s giving me the silent treatment, looking anywhere but at me. I swear to God, I’m going to turn her over my knee and make sure she knows how I feel about that. I understand that she may not like what I’m doing to her life, but that doesn’t mean she gets to act like a brat. I’m doing this for her sake.
“I don’t know how to use my words, Corrie?” I ask as I lean in. I want her to feel what I’m saying. I want it to make her skin prickle. “I’d say I know plenty. I know everything about you, for starters.”
“You don’t know shit,” she answers at once. Her cheeks flush and she’s too slow turning away so I see it. I see the effect I have on her.
“I know what your skin feels like against mine. I know how you taste on my tongue.”
Her blink is a little long, and the gulp is just a bonus for me.
“And I know all about that surprised, sleepy smile when I wake you up by licking your pussy.” What I’ve meant to do to her, I’ve done to myself. It’s shocking but evident. No point in trying to hide it anymore.
“Tommy …” She’s breathless. Excited. Then angry. She moves away. “Stop it.” Her tone is almost as hard as my cock. We both need to release the mounting pressure.
But we’re in a coffee shop, and she won’t look at me now.
“I don’t want to stop. I want to kiss you here.” I glide my finger down her spine to her waistband.
“And here.”
I drag it around to her belly button.
“And here.” I can’t get enough of touching her and as I’m about to slip lower, she catches my wrist. This time, she doesn’t move, doesn’t push me away, just holds on, smoothing her thumb over the pulse point in my wrist, with the same gentle grip she uses to stroke my cock.
Fuck. I need her. Now. I want her. Now.
“Let’s get out of here.”
She drops my hand and shakes her head. “I have to work.”
Which brings me back around to why I’m here. The purpose of my visit was not to coax my dick into straining against my pants, so hard it hurts, nor to leave me with no chance of easing it anytime soon.
“I need your help.”
In response, she just stares at me with those doe eyes. Her breath hasn’t evened out. I’m so ready to be inside her. I’m raging that I can’t be.
“Corrie, I’m not asking for any other reason than you’re good at your job.”
Now she’s the vixen with her hand under the table, in my lap, thumb moving high on my thigh, so close to where I want her. “Are you trying to get me back to your place?”
“As a matter of fact, I am.” I grin. It’s almost an act of surrender. I’m tough when I need to be, unbreakable, fucking determined. But this girl—this woman—destroys me. Turns me into something weak. “Whenever and however I can.”
Even her head shake turns me on. “That’s finished. We’re finished. Because you’re a liar.”
“A liar?”
“Yes,” she hisses, eyes gleaming. “You made my dad lie on your behalf. A rich uncle leaving money for college? I bet it made you so fucking happy that I bought that lie hook, line, and sinker. You probably loved that.”
I sit back, trying not to show that I’m a little taken aback. Was she eavesdropping when I talked to Arthur on the porch? Fuck, I should’ve been more careful. Stupid. I was too overwhelmed by memories of a past I left behind to remember shit as basic as keep my fucking voice down.
But it doesn’t really matter. The money was a long time ago. I was just making things right. If she wants to be mad about that, fine—have at it.
I want to tell her the truth: I’ve never lied about anything that matters. But telling her that won’t soften the anger in her eyes, won’t make her light up the room with her smile, won’t end with us rolling around in my bed.
Because the lies are in the past. What matters is what’s happening right now. Our past coming back to bite us. Feelings we thought were long gone resurfacing and calling everything into question.
“You’re scared,” I say.
“No.” The word is simple and short, but the implication is long and loud.
“Oh, yes, you are. I hurt you and you’re afraid I’m going to hurt you again.” I have her figured out. “A blind man could see it.”
“Yeah, I’m afraid.” She narrows her eyes. “And while we’re listening character flaws, in addition to being a liar, you’re also a murderer.”
Normally, I would look around to make sure no one heard her, but I’m locked into her gaze. “I wouldn’t hurt you.”