Chapter 9 Griffin
Iwas playing with fire, and I had a feeling the two of us were going to end up in flames. But what a fucking way to go?
When I’d walked into the empty club and saw her there, I hadn’t been able to look away.
Fuck, she was pretty. Mine, my heart and brain had both shouted, and fuck me, I’d been just about to call out her name when I watched her bend down and pick something up off the floor before quickly slipping it into her pocket.
That dark side of me, the pessimistic side, who couldn’t let me have her, spoke up.
He’d been ominously quiet all fucking day when I’d been around her.
My heart was yelling at me to say something, and my brain fucking got me tongue tied until I’d somehow found a way to put my foot back in my mouth around her.
But that dark fucked-up side knew the moment I’d watched her slip something into her pocket, that this was my chance.
My one and only opportunity to fire her and never see her again.
I swallowed. Never see her again. Never feel this thing inside of me that she’d awakened that made me feel more alive than I’d ever felt in my entire life. Never feel like I could actually breathe the way I did when I was around her.
Now her breathing was off, her eyes dilated as she stared up at me. Everything inside my body, every fucking molecule that made me whole, was aching to touch her. To pull her into my arms and brush my lips against hers.
But I couldn’t.
Accuse her of stealing, that dark side of me whispered, battling my heart and mind.
If I did that, I knew with her attitude, she would never let that accusation go.
There was something missing. It hadn’t all been a lie.
A governor’s secretary, aka his mistress, had lost a tennis bracelet at brunch.
When I’d questioned them, there was a guilt to her eyes that told me she was full of shit or up to something.
And even if it was the bracelet, I knew Marty wouldn’t steal. But why hadn’t she told me what she’d pocketed?
“Are you a good girl or a naughty one, Marty?” The words slipped past my lips, and I couldn’t stop them.
Mine, my heart and soul shouted. Who the fuck was I kidding?
I couldn’t accuse her of stealing! She was mine.
Whatever hang-ups I had about whether or not I could be her man went out the fucking window the moment she licked her lips and left them glimmering with want.
“Griffin—“
“Uh-uh, spitfire. That’s not what you called me three nights ago, baby girl.”
She was mine.
I don’t know why I tried to deny it, to fight it. A hand slid to her hip, and I didn’t miss the way her breath hitched. She made this sweet sexy sound that was between a hiss and moan. My free hand rose between us, and with one single finger, I let the tip graze the soft line of her jaw.
“What are you doing?” Her voice shook, but her eyes didn’t waver from mine. Fuck, there was so much in that dark stare that fed into this thing I hadn’t known was possible a mere week ago.
“What would you do to stay?” I asked, toying with her. Taunting her. It was sick. It was such an asshole move, but my feisty spitfire didn’t disappoint.
“Are you threatening to fire me?” Her pretty, little chin rose with defiance, but it was the way her body melted against mine, swaying that much closer, that gave her away.
“You took something.” I was no longer talking about whatever was in her fucking pocket.
Three days ago, with one fucking look, she’d reached into my fucking chest and pumped up my heart to near bursting, to the point where fucking love songs suddenly made sense and colors seemed brighter.
“Something that wasn’t yours, spitfire,” I rasped. That quiet side of me, the leery one when it came to life, shrank inside of me, turned smaller and smaller as my heart and soul took control until it was gone.
“Griff—“ she whispered. I tipped her head up, forcing her to look at me.
“Now… I don’t want it back.”
“But—“ Her brows bunched, and the cutest little lines formed between her eyes.
“I don’t need it back.” It was hers. My heart.
My soul. My body. Every part of me and everything I owned was hers.
Jesus, I was a fucking mess. Whipped by pussy I hadn’t even tasted, lips I hadn’t even fucking kissed.
But I didn’t need to. Martina Gomez was mine.
I knew it with the same confidence I knew the sun would rise in the morning.
“Wait, Griffin—“ I shot her a look, and that pretty face of hers bloomed to life with the prettiest shade of pink. “Daddy,” she whispered. I had to bite away a groan. “What if…” she started to say, and I blinked.
“Wait… what if…”
“What, little girl?” She moved closer. The hands she held at her sides slid up my chest, grazing the edges of my leather cut until they made it to the collar of the white shirt I had on.
“What if I can make a deal with you, Daddy?”
“Deal?” I croaked. Shit. Shit. Shit. My stupid plan of telling her how I felt after slightly messing with her about stealing something and getting fired backfired on me.
“A mutually beneficial kind of deal. The club makes those all the time, don’t they?”
“Spitfire,” I warned, not sure where the hell she was going with this.
“I’m not stupid.” Her nail dragged up and down the cotton material of my shirt, making me wish I could rip it off to feel her skin to skin. “I see the way you look at me.”
“Marty—“
“The way you want me.” She pressed herself against me, making sure to get close enough so her belly bumped against the hard bulge behind my jeans. “Maybe we can make a deal.”
“Deal…” I repeated. Everything inside of me was yelling to take her up on what she was offering. To toss her over my shoulder and not have her say a goddamn word until we reached my room, because if she did, I’d lose my goddamn mind.
“A deal,” she repeated. Her pretty gaze dropped to my lips as the flat of her palms firmed against my chest.
My sweet little devilish minx stroked up and down, slowly making her descent to the waistband of my jeans. We both knew exactly what she was doing. Tempting me. Making it virtually impossible to turn her down.
Fuck, I had no idea what the problem was to start off with. I couldn’t think straight. Not when all the blood in my body had gone south and my dick started to throb when she stopped at my belt buckle. “I think we can think of something that could be…. mutually beneficial.”
“Little girl—“ I tried to warn her.
Tried to tell her she didn’t have to do this.
There was no way I was going to fire her.
Even if by any chance she had the tennis bracelet in her pocket.
Fuck, at this point, she could steal every dollar from my bank account and ride off with my bike, and I’d keep every single one of her naughty little secrets until the day I died.
She took a deep breath that seemed to hitch in her throat just as goose bumps flared to life on the skin of her arms. “You get whatever you want from me if I can keep my job.”
“Baby, that’s not—“
“Please.” She bit her bottom lip, and a silent groan escaped from me. I might not know her, know her, but I knew being the type of woman she was, saying please didn’t come easy.
“Please,” she repeated, her bedroom eyes wide and locked on me like I was the only fucking man in the world she could ever want. Like I was the only thing she could see. “What if…” The words hung heavily in the warm air between us. “What if I want to?”
“You telling me you want daddy, too, little girl?”
“Mhmm.” She nodded. Marty squeaked as I leaned down, closing the small amount of space between us until my forehead rested against hers.
“You telling daddy you’ve been a brat and need to learn a lesson, baby girl?” The filthy, loaded question slipped past my lips as easily as breathing. Her eyes widened for a split second before they darkened. She liked my dirty mouth and the daddy play.
Thank god, because I loved it. I hadn’t played this way with anyone else, and I had no idea how this pull, this connection to her, was so damn strong, but I was done questioning it. The two of us fell into our roles easily.
“Fuck,” she cursed. Without thinking, I let my baser instincts take control. One of my hands dropped from her side and went straight to her ass cheek. I squeezed it before my hand rose and fell with a muffled slap against the skirt of her uniform.
“Did you—“ She gasped. The bewildered expression on her face only made me harder. “Did you just spank me?”
“Did you like it?” She gaped at me. Her mouth opened and shut like the most adorable little fish in the ocean.
I stepped forward, and she took one back.
We did that little dance until her back met a table.
My hands wrapped around her waist and lifted her up only to sit her down on top of it.
Without missing a beat, she spread her legs as far as the uniform would allow to give me space between them.
Fuck, I loved how she let me manhandle her like my very own little doll.
“What did you take, Marty?” I asked again, keeping in line with the fact she undeniably had stolen something.
She swallowed hard, the motion pronounced, making my mouth water to run my tongue up and down the line of that smooth skin and finally get a taste of her skin.
She’d be the perfect combination of salty and sweet.
Wetness coated the thick crown of my cock.
“All daddy needs to hear is your confession. Tell me what you took. Admit it.”
“Nothing,” she said, half-whisper, half-defiantly. Jesus, that attitude, that feistiness of hers, drove me fucking wild.
“Hmm…” My lips quirked up.
My little liar.
My spitfire.
My firework.
Mine.
She might not know it yet, but she had most definitely stolen something. Something she could never give back, or else it would ruin me.
“You really think I believe that, my sassy little brat?” I asked, hoping like hell I wasn’t pushing her too far. She moaned so fucking sweetly my balls tightened.