The point was, the more I looked at him, the more I found for my eyes to enjoy. He had a defined nose, a little mole to the side of his mouth that was, of course, oddly appealing. He even had this sort of bow shape to his full lips that was doing dangerous things in my brain. To top it all off, he had nearly black, perfect hair and a pair of blue eyes bright enough to read a book by under the blankets.
“Hey?” For the first time, he didn’t sound icy and calm. “You have got to be the most insane, f—”
“Who shuts a door on someone in the middle of a conversation?”
“It wasn’t a conversation! I was trying to get away from you.”
“Which one is it? You want to get away, or you want to prove to your fragile ego that you can make me say ‘yes?’”
His eyes narrowed into little slits, which made the corners of his cheeks crinkle in a frustratingly sexy way. And just like that, all the fuming anger I’d felt—not just toward him but about the whole situation that led to me coming here today—seemed to flicker and shift inside me. My belly went hot, and my knees threatened to turn soft.
Stop it, knees. We’ve practiced this whole standing thing a couple times, so don’t pretend to be incompetent on me now.
“I should leave you alone,” I said quietly. I reached for the door, but he pressed his palm to it, stopping me.
“You don’t get to talk to me the way you did and walk away, Chelsea.”
I swallowed. I was the most stubborn person I knew. He thought he could rock my world. I saw it in his eyes. I’d challenged him, and he thought sleeping with me would put me in my place. Like coaxing a few moans from my lips while he glared dispassionately down at me would prove some kind of point.
If I’d been even a little less stubborn, I’d have walked away. I’d have known sleeping with someone to win an argument was off the charts of stupidity.
But… I wasn’t less stubborn. In fact, I was the kind of stubborn that had resulted in more than a few emergency room trips, like the time I put my tongue on the frozen basketball pole to prove it wouldn’t stick—it did. Or the time I just had to prove the lake wasn’t too thin to ice skate on—it was. Or even the time I claimed I could handle a raw ghost pepper—I couldn’t.
So I reached out and gripped his tie, tugging him a little closer. “Think you’ll win this, Mr. Suit?”
His lips curled up at the corners. “I know I will. Just like everyone who winds up across from you on the court probably does.”
“You don’t know the first thing about me.”
“I know you’re going to let me kiss you.”
I clenched my teeth. I wanted to tell him he was wrong, but when he dipped his chin toward me, and I caught a hint of his manly musk—a scent somewhere between money and fresh cut wood, the words died on my lips.
God. Why was I so stubborn? Couldn’t I maybe stubbornly decide to prove I wasn’t stubborn, for once? Except all my thoughts felt powerless. I was swept up in him, and deep down, I knew there was no breaking free of this. He was the riptide, and the harder you fought the riptide, the more it had you. The only way out was to relax. Surrender to it and ride out the current until it finally tired of you and let you swim back to shore.
I’d lost the moment I walked into this, but I still wasn’t ready to accept that.
I tilted my chin up and let his lips crash down on mine. I wondered if he felt the same rush of white-hot excitement I did in that moment. It wasn’t an ordinary kiss. It wasn’t two people seeking affection. There was no hunger for approval.
It was a battle, and our lips were the soldiers, battering themselves against each other. Our tongues clashed, slashing against each other in a hot, swirling form of combat that made my body zing with energy.
I tugged at his suit, hoping to tear something while he yanked at my skirt.
When it didn’t budge downward, he pushed it up in impatience, hiking up one of my legs and pressing me to the door so he could grind himself against me. His lips brushed my neck and I felt him smile his devil’s smile. “Tell me to stop. I dare you.”
“You’re a baby puncher. And I’m not going to give you what you want.”
“No?” His hand cupped me between my legs, making me gasp. “You’re already soaked for me.”
“That was for someone else.”
For a second, I thought he was actually going to laugh, but instead he took me by the shoulder and turned me, pressing my cheek to the wall and forcing my ass against his crotch. “Doesn’t matter who you think any of this was for. I’m taking it.”
A chill spiked across my spine. Okay. Grumpy? Yes. Arrogant? Definitely. Kid kicker? Probably. But his growly possessiveness was a turn on. I had to give him that.
I licked my lips. “I’m only letting you do this to see your face when you can’t make me cum.” The truth was I’d never had a real orgasm with a man before. Some happy little butterflies here and there and a few things in between, but never a true orgasm. They’d left me wanting and unfulfilled, and it was half the reason I knew I was going to enjoy this. Watching Mr. Suit struggle to please me was at least going to feel like a victory.
“I’m not just going to make you cum all over my cock. I’m going to make you wait to do it until you have permission.”
I laughed, except the sound didn’t have quite the authenticity I was going for. His hands were on my hips and my body was pinned by him. I could talk all I wanted, but I knew I was in his control. His power.
I heard the jingle of his belt and felt the shifting of his pants behind me. I closed my eyes, waiting. I had just enough time to take a look in my mental mirror and ask what the hell I thought I was doing. But everything about today was already a shitshow, starting with showing up to this meeting uninvited. It almost seemed fitting that I was about to hate fuck a stranger in a random conference room.
“I hope you have a rubber, or you’re not going near me with that.”
I realized I still didn’t even know his name as he lazily produced a wrapper from his jacket pocket. Charming. I knew I was really scraping the bottom of the barrel when the guy I was about to let inside me was carrying around a personal supply of condoms.
Then again, when you looked like Mr. Suit, having a supply of condoms probably made as much sense as carrying an umbrella around in London.
I braced for him to jam himself unceremoniously into me, but instead I felt both his palms on my ass. I turned to see what he was doing just in time to catch him crouching down behind me and yanking my panties down.
My eyes went wide as he pressed his mouth between my legs and started to kiss and lick the ever-living hell out of me. I tried and failed to dig my fingers into the wall for support. I ended up biting down on my knuckles to stop from moaning in a way I knew would plaster a satisfied smirk on his stupid face.
Yeah. It felt amazing. It was kinda like he was taking his anger out… on my pussy… with his tongue. I mean, if this was the way he vented his frustrations, I guess I could imagine some kind of arrangement where I volunteer to be his punching bag. Especially if the punches would always be delivered by his tongue.
Still, I mustered up the power to stay silent. Every moment I didn’t make a sound only seemed to enrage him further. He slid a hand around and started drawing glorious little circles around my clit, but I only bit down harder on my knuckles.