Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
Hannah
I march over to him, partly to conquer my own visceral fear of him in this state and partly because I’m pissed that he doesn’t trust me.
And pissed he scared me. “In case you didn’t notice, Armando, I can’t pay my rent.
I have to stay open every minute I can, and that means working Sundays, too.
I work every day. Every hour. It’s the only way I can survive. ”
He blinks at me, some of the hardness in his expression falling away.
I stare back. “Don’t yell at me like that again. You’re scary when you’re mean.”
I expect him to be sorry. I want him to call me baby girl , pet my hair, hold me close, and promise to never be scary again, but instead he scowls. “Yeah, you should be scared of me, Flowers.”
Offense cuts swift and deep, straight through my chest. I thrust my chin up. “That right? Well why don’t you just say it then? Say whatever it is we’re not coming back from. Make your threats and be done with it. Then you can leave. It would be a whole lot easier for both of us.”
He stands there a minute, conflict dancing over his face. I swear the room spins around us, like in those movies. And then his hand snaps out and captures the back of my head. His lips crash over mine. It’s a juicy, lusty kiss because I give it right back.
This is what we do best. Our relationship may be a sham, communication is a joke, but we know this dance. I assume that’s why he went for it. Just like I kissed him that first time when he was wondering what to do with me.
Do this.
This is what we do.
He breaks the kiss but doesn’t release my head. “Is that what you want, Hannah? You want me to go?” Misery seeps out of him. A hint of desperation. He’s holding my gaze like my answer will make the moon orbit.
“No,” I admit. That’s the last thing I want.
He pulls my mouth to his again and consumes me in a searing kiss. I kiss him back, my lips opening and closing against his, tugging on his.
“I’m sorry,” he croaks when our lips part. “Someone shot up my place last night, and I’m paranoid as shit right now. I shouldn’t have yelled. Especially at you.”
My eyes round even though I suspected it was something awful like that.
“I don’t want you scared.” He shifts the hand behind my head to cradle the side of my face and runs his thumb across my lower lip. “I want these kisses like it’s the end of the world. Fucking you like our lives depend on it.”
A wave of heat crashes through me.
“You’re the only thing keeping me sane right now. I’m on the verge of losing my fucking mind. But it’s you holding the key to my sanity, Hannah. You.”
I freaking love the way he rasps my name. I initiate the kiss this time, pressing my breasts against his hard muscles. “Like our lives depend on it, huh?” I murmur when I come up for air.
He pushes me back against glass doors and closes the shades again.
His hands are everywhere, stroking down my sides, squeezing my ass.
I lift one leg to wrap around his waist, and when he shifts to put his forearm under my butt, the other one wraps too.
He presses me against the window, knocking the blinds to thrust the bulge of his cock between my legs.
He dances his lips across my collarbone, and then stops to find my ear with his teeth, catching me with a shorter, sharper nip than before.
I feel it all the way to my core. His voice is low and throaty, his words sending a sexy vibration through my ear.
“You’re so fucking gorgeous. And kissable.
And fuckable. I want to bend you over right here, right now.
I want to shove you up against this window and fuck you until you scream. ”
I’m too breathless to answer. I can’t think of anything to say. “Do it, now, I need you.”
His hand moves from my ass to my hip, and then around to my stomach, his fingertips pressing hard into my skin. “I want to watch you come from behind. I want to watch your sweet little pussy take my cock. I want to fuck you for hours.”
“I want it,” I tell him, my throat feeling tight and dry. I want it, but I don’t want it to end. I want to stay here. I want to stay in this moment forever.
He kisses me again, and it’s not gentle this time but urgent, and then he spins and carries me behind the counter to my desk. My ass touches down on the surface. The coolness shocking me back to reality.
Reality.
We’re in the shop. My business. Reality.
“Wait,” I pant. “We can’t keep doing this.”
It’s too much. He’s too much. I’m definitely feeling way too much.
He stiffens. Pulls back. I register the loss of his touch like a shock of cold water. “Yeah.”
I’m immediately sorry for putting on the brakes. I reach for him. “Wait.”
He steps back between my legs and strokes his palm up my bare thigh. His fingers reach the hem of my short t-shirt dress and slip under. Our foreheads touch. “Talk to me, Hannah.”
Talk to him. This is the moment where I show my true colors, and he runs. But maybe that’s for the best. That’s what I need.
“I just…” I draw in a fortifying breath. “I don’t do casual sex. I feel too much, you know? And I get attached too quickly…”
Worst thing ever to say to a guy.
But it’s the truth.
“Does this feel casual to you?” Armando’s voice sounds scratchy.
“No,” I admit.
He picks up a swath of my hair and winds it around his fist, staring at the bleached curls mixing with the dark ones. “It doesn’t feel casual to me. It feels desperate and life-giving. Like a starving baby’s first pull of milk.”
Oh, God. My heart tumbles. I freaking love knowing I’m giving him something he can’t find anywhere else. Maybe even changing him. It brings significance to our dance. To who I am and what my life means. I lift my lips for a kiss, but he pulls back a half an inch and leaves me hanging.
“But if you need a breath, I’ll step back. I don’t force women.”
Swoon. “Don’t forget…” I breathe, looking up at him from under my lashes. “I like to be forced.”
His sharp intake of breath is everything.
So is the way he slowly captures my wrist and tugs me off the desk then turns me around and bends me over.
He pins my arm behind my back and slaps my ass.
“So you do.” His voice has that froggy sound again.
He slowly takes my other wrist and twists it behind my back as well.
My face presses against the smooth surface of the desk, the scent of ink and paper mingles with his masculine scent.
He tugs up the hem of my dress, pushing the fabric up over the mounds of my ass.
Then he peels down my panties just enough to stroke a hand over my ass.
“You sore from that spanking I gave you before?”
My pussy contracts at the mention of what he did to me. Or maybe it’s clenching at what he’s doing now. I shake my head.
“You took it like a good girl, didn’t you?”
Oh God.
So hot.
He slaps one cheek, catching the underside and making it reverberate right in my core. He strokes his hand over the sting. “Yeah, keep pushing me, Flowers, because I’m always gonna want to spank this ass pink.”
I waggle my ass back and forth to tempt him again, and he spanks me. Rubs away the sting. “You are the hottest woman I’ve ever been with. By far.” He spanks me again.
I close my eyes, soaking in both the sensations and his words. He doesn’t usually talk much, so his verbal expression now is a balm to my frayed nerves.
“And I like how much you feel.” He smacks a little harder. “I like you attached.” Another slap. “Because the only time I feel anything is when I’m with you.”
Tears sting my eyes. For once, it seems like the guy I’m falling for is on the same page as me. It’s a freaking miracle.
“Oh, fuck,” he growls, his mouth on my neck. “You like when Daddy punishes you?” He spanks my ass again, and I mewl as I press against his palm.
He lifts me a little, and the rough fabric of his pants scrapes over the heated and ready flesh of my ass. I shudder, my hips rising to meet his touch.
“Y-Yes. I want it. I want it… Daddy .” The word feels so fucking right rolling off my tongue.
“What do you want, Flowers?” he growls, his lips traveling up my neck to kiss me. “Tell me what you want.”
“I want you to fuck me,” I whisper, panting. “I want you to fuck me here, with my ass in the air and your cock inside me.”
His hand grinds against my clit, and I whimper, my brain floating in a hazy sea of pleasure that’s so much more intense than anything I’ve ever felt.
He presses a finger inside me. I’m so wet that it slides in easily, and my knees almost buckle. He slides in a second one and starts to stroke in and out while the tip of his thumb grinds over my aching clit.
I press my face against the desk, and my muffled cries of need echo in the room. The cool wood is against my cheek and his lips are on my back, whispering filthy things that go straight to my head.
“I’m going to fuck you like this, baby,” he growls in my ear. “I’m going to make you come so hard with my cock in your sweet little pussy. But first, there’s something you’re going to do for me.”
He slides his fingers out of me, and I whimper at the empty feeling.
He pulls the desk chair up behind him and sinks into it, freeing his erection.
I turn to face him and drop to my knees.
His gaze turns intent. Tortured, even. I totally owe him oral after how many times he’s given me intense pleasure.
He’s always in charge, and I’m… well, I’ve been his prisoner. A role I seem to love.
But I want him to order me to suck him off. I want him to guide my head with my hair, commanding every move. I want to suck his dick because he demands it.
As if reading my mind, he says, “Put those lips of yours around my cock.”
I wrap my hand around the base of his cock and swirl my tongue around the head. His erection juts out, suddenly thickening and lengthening in my hand.
“Oh fuck.” he mutters, nostrils flaring, breath coming in sharply.