8. Axel
8
AXEL
“What’s gotten into you today?” Leeann asks, her eyebrow raised in suspicion. It’s a warning sign that she’s not going to let this go until I confess. Despite knowing this, I don’t intend to make it easier on her.
“Nothing.”
“That’s not what the blue handprint on your neck says.”
I slap a hand over the spot, certain I’d scrubbed it clean last night. I reach for the mirror Leeann keeps on the front desk and look for any traces of the ink. “There’s nothing there,” I grumble at her.
“Not anymore,” she admits, a sly grin spreading across her dark purple painted lips. “But that just told me the rumors are true. There was a blue handprint on your neck.”
I don’t ask where she heard the rumor. One thing I’ve learned about living in a small town these past few months is that nothing stays secret. Just this morning, when I was grabbing a couple of coffees at Espresso of Love , I overheard two women talking about Kelsey Mathers’ romance novels being responsible for nearly burning down the assisted living facility last night.
The most shocking part is how accurate the rumors in this town have been lately.
“It’s nothing,” I say, returning my attention to the Moleskin notebook flattened under my palm. I’ve been trying to flesh out a promotional idea all morning, but it’s been nearly impossible. For once, it’s actually a good thing I don’t have a client booked, because my concentration is fucking shot. I keep thinking about Kelsey’s dirty little text last night. How she admitted to me that she was playing with herself.
“Who is she?” Leeann asks, her tone casual. As though she’s asking about the weather forecast and not about the woman who’s scrambling my damn brain. But I know that tone well. It’s laced with insatiable curiosity.
“I’m not telling you shit,” I say, pretending to jot something down in my notebook. It’s just a doodle, but I hope my serious expression makes her think it’s something important.
“Suit yourself,” Leeann says with a shrug. “I’ll find out sooner or later. I always do.”
It’s better if I don’t acknowledge the threat, so I hunch over my notebook and don’t look up. And then I notice—my doodle is actually a sunflower. Fuck me, I’ve got it bad .
When Leeann’s next client comes in, I switch my focus to the website. It’s in dire need of an overhaul. It’s just a shell of what I want it to be, which is probably why clients aren’t flocking to it. I make a note to ask about web designers next time I’m grabbing a coffee or lunch. If there’s one in Daisy Hills, someone will know.
“You always look so serious?” The angelic voice startles me. I hadn’t heard Kelsey come through the door.
“I’m working,” I say, applying the grumpiness mostly for Leeann’s benefit.
“That’s too bad,” Kelsey says, letting out a slightly dramatic sigh that instantly has my attention. “I was hoping you had time for a consult.”
“A consult?”
“Preferably a private one.” She taps the straps of her tote bag, glancing down at it. I suspect my t-shirt’s inside and she’s being considerate by not pulling it out in front of my cousin. But there’s more than courtesy dancing in those amber orbs. I’d bet my shop on it.
“I can squeeze in a consult,” I say, standing. In a lower voice, I add, “Let’s go to my office.”
Kelsey follows me to the room in the back I hardly use. I like to be out front where the clients are. It’s why there are piles of papers and books on my desk, on top of the filing cabinet, and in the chairs.
“Sorry, let me move some stuff?—”
Kelsey catches my bicep, her delicate fingers wrapping around it. “I don’t need to sit.”
I softly kick the door closed. My lips are on hers before it latches.
Her hands rake up my neck, reminding me of the handprint she left behind last night. Her body arches into mine, and my dick hardens on contact. She’s wearing one of those damn tank tops again, this one a soft teal color. It’s impossible not to notice the white lace of her bra peeking out from the low cut. I yearn to unhook her bra and feel her tits in my hands again.
“Kelsey?”
“Mmm?”
“Does this mean you’ve reconsidered my offer?”
She pulls back just enough that my forehead rests against hers. We’re both panting, her fingers gripping my shirt and my hands on her hips. “I’m still on the fence.”
“This doesn’t feel like you’re on the fence, Princess.”
“The research assistant position is a very special one,” she says, that familiar mischievous twinkle in her eyes as one hand slides down my chest. “You might need to do an interview or something.” Her palm moves over my hard cock and gives it a gentle squeeze. “So I can make sure you’re the right fit for the job.”
“You want an interview, Princess?” My words are both a challenge and petition for permission.
“Yes,” she says, amber eyes sparkling. “I do. Right now.”
I drop my lips quickly to hers, digging my fingers into her hips to spin her around until her back is against my chest. “I want you to put your hands on the edge of the desk,” I whisper against her ear. “And under no circumstances do you remove them, or I’ll stop.”
“Bossy,” she says approvingly. “I like it.”
“Princess?”
“Yes?”
“You have to be quiet.” I pull her hair back from her neck and kiss her soft skin. “That door doesn’t lock.”
She nods, a soft moan escaping her throat as I trail my fingers down both sides of her body. As if we have all day when I know damn well we do not. If we’re in here too long, Leeann will come looking for me.
I tease the waistband of her leggings with my fingertips, inching it down so slowly I don’t know who it’s torturing more—Kelsey or me. My cock throbs with need to be inside her. But I’ll be damned if I let the fucker have his way for the first time in this little back office with no windows. The first time I claim that pussy, it’ll be in my bed after I’ve spent ample time exploring her body with my tongue.
When her leggings and silk panties hang halfway down her ass, I return my attention to the front. I use my left hand so my arm won’t rub against her fresh tattoo. There’s just enough access between the stretched fabric and her soft skin for me to easily slide my fingers down without it getting in the way. I brush the tip of her wet folds with a single fingertip, and she gasps.
I slide one finger between her pussy lips and start to trace slow circles through her sweet wetness. Good fucking god this is heaven.
I watch in rapture as her fingers curl tighter on the desk. “Don’t let go, Princess.”
Her head tilts back, the strawberry scent of her shampoo invading my senses. Maybe it was never jasmine. Maybe it was always this fruity shampoo. What would it be like to wake up smelling strawberries every morning? For that scent to be seared into my pillowcases?
I slip my hand down further, until my middle finger finds her center. I plunge it inside so quickly her head snaps forward and she swallows a moan.
“So fucking wet .” I pull my finger out slowly, then thrust it back into her tight channel. “Were you this wet last night, when you were being naughty ?”
“Yes,” she gasps, her confession a panted whisper.
“Do you want me to make you come?” I ask as I repeat the motion.
“Yes!” she pleads.
With my middle finger still inside her, I swirl my thumb around her swollen bud. She clamps her lips shut and whimpers. I know she’s close.
I yank my finger out from inside her and stop my thumb.
“Hey,” she objects.
I start to swirl my thumb gently against her clit. “If you want me to make you come, Princess, there’s one thing I want from you.”
“What?” she asks desperately.
“You have to go out on a date with me.”
“What?”
“One date.”
“Axel, I’m leaving in two weeks.”
“So what’s the big deal?” I ask, teasing her entrance with slow strokes of my finger, my palm rubbing against her nub. “It’s just one date.”
“It won’t mean anything,” she insists.
“Keep telling yourself that,” I say against the shell of her ear, my hand still working slowly against her pussy. “But if you want me to make you come right now, you have to agree to it.”
“Or?” she asks, her hips grinding in rhythm to my lazy motion.
“Or you can find yourself a new research assistant.”
“Damn you,” she groans.
“So?” I bring her right up to the edge again, then retract my hand, pulling it out of her pants.
“You’re really going to leave me like this?” she pants.
I tug on her earlobe with my teeth. “I don’t have to.”
“Fine.”
“Fine, what?”
“Fine, I’ll go on a damn date with you. For research purposes ,” she whisper shouts. “Just make me fucking come already!”
In one swift motion, my hand sinks beneath her leggings. Two fingers thrust into her sopping wet channel as my thumb shows no mercy to her clit. She explodes on impact. I cover her mouth as she struggles to swallow her cries of ecstasy and comes apart on my hand.
I hold her tight against me until she stills.
Then I slowly remove my hand from between her legs, gently tug her by the hips to turn her around to face me so she can watch me suck her sweet nectar from my fingers. “Mmm, so tasty.”
“You make a hard bargain.”
“But I got the job?”
“You got the job.”
I grip her hip and drag her body against mine so she can feel how badly I want her. “Then you’ll soon find out what other hard things I bring to the table.”