6. Consequences
Chapter six
Consequences
Eoghan
I have never wanted a woman so badly in my life. Women, as a rule, are common and cheap. Easily forgotten when out of sight. But not this one. I was obsessed and delighted. Even her scent made my head swim.
My cock ached, and if she so much as brushed against my trousers, I would leak pre-cum like an adolescent. It was agony, talking art with a woman of such insane depth.
“I need to get you out of here or I will take you against the fucking wall.”
“No.” She looked at me with fire in her eyes, burning with a deep hatred that I didn’t understand. “I need to go. Goodnight, Mr. Green.”
“Why?”
“I’m not a whore.” She swallowed; her eyes as heavy with lust as my own. Then she took a step away from me, creating a cold space where we had exchanged heat.
“I never said you were, Miss Kekoa.” She was fate. She was destiny. She was mine.
“You have offered to pay for sexual favors, and…”
“Would you prefer it if I hadn’t? Would you like me to pretend that I wouldn’t move heaven and earth for a taste of you? That I wouldn’t bargain with the devil himself to kiss your mouth?”
She looked away, shaking her head. What was she thinking?
“That’s not how it’s meant to be. It shouldn’t be a transaction! It should be…”
“Love? Fine.” I stepped toward her, closing the space again because I needed to feel her near me. I spun her around and drew her in, pulling her toward me by the biceps until her breast pressed against my chest. “What do you want? A thousand roses? Would it be more honest if I got down on one knee and proposed? Do you wish to cease to be Ms. Kekoa, and become Mrs. Green?”
I leaned down, needing to be close to her again. I needed her breath, her movements, her pulse in my hands.
“So be it,” I swore. If that was what she needed, then I would make it so.
Was it rash? Yes. But I hadn’t felt this alive in over a decade. I hadn’t felt a flutter in my dormant heart in just as long.
“You’re insane.” She squirmed out of my hold, stomping away in anger. “I don’t even know where to start! What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Her eyes were filled with fire, and her glare, designed to wither a lesser man, made me want to get on my knees and rest her thigh on my shoulder. I’d let my tongue beg for forgiveness.
“Ah, I understand,” I chuckled. “You don’t believe me?”
“Of course I don’t believe you, you insane bastard!” She wiped the loose hair from her face back into place, trying to compose herself. It was like she was trying to put a mask back on.
I appreciated the view, as her black dress hugged her rounded breasts, and clung to her form.
“I didn’t think you’d be the kind of woman that would wait to fuck until marriage, but if that’s what…”
“I’m not! What are you talking about?”
“I’m willing to do anything to get between your legs. It doesn’t have to be tonight, or tomorrow. But give me some hope, Miss Kekoa. Give me an inkling that I have a chance, and I will make it happen.”
My sweet Goddess had never met a man like me. I knew that. Because there were no men like me.
There were a dozen women in this gallery who would fall on their faces to hear me make them the same offer. There were hundreds across the city of New York who would line up for a fraction of what I offered her.
Her rejection made the prospect of having her even more delicious. The harder the fight, the sweeter the victory. She was getting sweeter with every word.
“Why me? What did I do?” She was collapsing into herself, her shoulders hunched. “What have I done to make you do this?”
That made me pause. “What do you mean?”
“Is it because I’m… because I don’t look like you? Is it because I don’t look like these other women? Do you think that makes me insecure and more willing to…? Do you think it makes me easier to…?”
A tear slid down her cheek, and she quickly wiped it away. She straightened to her full glory, her shoulders back, her face that mask of strength I had seen the first time she led millionaires by the nose.
“I’m not the kind of woman who will fuck her boss because of a few paintings and a bribe.”
She took one hesitant step back, her ankle wobbling in her high heels.
I lunged to catch her. She flinched away like my hands burned her skin.
“I’m not your boss, Miss Kekoa.” I let her name roll off my tongue.
I loved the rhythm of it, and the melody of the diphthong at the end. It suited her.
“No,” she shook her head, and I wanted to grab the tendrils around her face and wrap them in my fingers. What would she look like with her hair loose about her shoulders? Would it be down to her waist, like I imagined? Like a real Venus? “You just own the gallery that employs me.”
Spite looked good on her. It gave a fire to her cheeks and eyes that I wanted to capture in a painting.
I stepped toward her. She lifted her hand, palm towards me. I froze and stared at her perfect, un-scarred palm. I wanted to sink my teeth into it. To draw blood and steal a vow of eternity.
“I don’t sleep my way to the top, Mr. Green. Nor do I tolerate being treated this way.” She turned away and my nostrils flared, the instinct to chase so strong, it was almost blinding. “I’ll tender my resignation tomorrow. Have a good evening, Mr. Green.”
I couldn’t fucking stand it.
I grabbed her arm and made her face me again.
She tried to pull away, but I was through being gentle. I planted my kiss on her lips, my tongue delving into her mouth.
And she moaned, as she kissed me back. That was unmistakable.
Whatever I felt, she felt it too. I deepened our kiss until her teeth scraped my lips, and even further still, because I wouldn’t be done until I was inside her. My tongue in her mouth, my cock in her cunt, my name on her soul.
I grabbed her face in my scarred hand.
I needed more… I needed…
Her slap was hard and sudden. The sound echoed through the large space.
Conversation around us silenced like a record scratch as all eyes turned our way.
The heat of her strike burned my cheek, and I couldn’t help but smirk.
I should have felt rage. I should have been fucking livid, but I wasn’t. All I felt was a sudden pang of fear. A fear that if someone saw, they’d do harm to her on my behalf. That’s what was expected. Revenge, in the name of a Green.
So, I fought my instincts and placed a reprimanding finger in front of her face, warning through clenched teeth, “You’re not a New Yorker, sweetheart, and you’re not of the life.”
We were almost nose-to-nose as I towered over her.
The next words I delivered as a warning, though an onlooker would think I was whispering a threat. She looked terrified, so that helped.
“I’ll forgive your ignorance.” I could almost taste her again. “But no one lays a hand on a Green without consequences.”
Her lips parted and she gasped, fear flashed through her brown eyes. Then the expression melted away, replaced by defiance and malice before she spat in my face.
The audible gasp from the gathering on-lookers caught her attention and she must have realized the great sin she had committed.
She looked at me, shaking her head in disbelief as she took several tentative steps back.
I allowed it.
Then she ran. Before anyone else could go after her, I followed, raising my hand in a dismissive wave to let whoever was watching know that we were not to be followed.
If I didn’t go after her, someone else would. Someone with misguided ideas of sucking up to a Green. I had to make sure that did not happen.
I prowled after her, keeping a wary distance, through the room where our coats hung, and on past that to the great steps that lead to the street.
I watched as she went to the edge of the sidewalk, looking up and down, searching for a cab. Another man in a peacoat came up, staying a couple arm’s length away, but seeming to be on the same search for transport.
I waited, debating how I was going to tame my sweet, defiant little Muse.