40. Kaitlyn
FORTY
Kaitlyn
EVEN THOUGH I KNOW SHE WANTED TO, THE YOUNG woman manning the front desk at the Hawthorne didn’t call security to have me escorted from the building after she told me that Went was unavailable.
“I’m sorry, Miss…” Even though her tone was polite and professional, it was perfectly clear she wasn’t sorry about anything. “But Mr. Fiorella is unavailable. If you’d like to leave him a message, I’ll be happy to relay it to him as soon as he returns.”
“No thank you,” I tell her with every intention of leaving. Instead, I made my way further into the lobby. Finding it empty, I make myself comfortable in one of its large, upholstered chairs with the intention of waiting for him to come home.
That’s the last thing I remember.
Waking up in the dark, unsure of where I am, I feel my heart slam itself into my throat.
Went.
I came to the Hawthorne to find Went and fell asleep in the lobby waiting for him to come home. I’m not in the lobby anymore. I can see the dark outlines of furniture. Couches and chairs. Tables and lamps. Framed art on the walls. Heavily curtained windows. Even though I’ve never been here before, I know this is where Went lives.
Blinking my eyes, trying to adjust them to the dark, I sit up to find the shape of him sitting in a chair not far from where I’m lying, his large frame back lit by the soft glow of a light from some far-off room. Rubbing my hands on the soft legs of my yoga pants, I take a deep, steadying breath before letting it out slowly. “I wasn’t sure it was really you. I thought maybe?—”
He makes a rough, quiet sound in the back of his throat. One I recognize. One he used to make when I said something he didn’t like or didn’t agree with. “Is that why you ran the second my back was turned? Again .”
I feel the back of my neck stiffen because his tone turns his question into an accusation. One I wasn’t ready for. Letting out another long, trembling breath, I shake my head. “Went, I’m?—”
“Don’t,” he says, his tone shifting from accusatory to warning. “Don’t say it. Matter of fact, don’t say another fucking word unless I tell you to.”
When I don’t say anything, as instructed, he makes that rough, familiar sound in the back of his throat again. “I don’t want to talk, so if that’s what you came here to do, you might as well leave.” Leaning forward in his chair, Went braces his forearms on his knees. Even though I can’t see it, I can feel his black, penetrating gaze drill itself into mine. “But if you stay, we’re gonna fuck, and I can’t promise that I’ll be nice about it. You might want to think about that before you make up your mind about staying or going.” Pushing himself out of his seat, he looks down at me, The impossibly large shape of him blocking out light behind him completely. “Your bag is on the table by the elevator.”
Went turns and walks out of the room and into the next before he disappears without waiting for me to make a decision like it doesn’t matter to him either way.
I did come here to talk to him. I came here to apologize. To explain what happened. Why I left but he’s made it clear he’s not interested in my explanations or apologies.
Leave, Kait, before things get out of hand. Nothing good can come out of staying here. He’s not ready to accept anything you have to say.
Pushing myself off the couch on unsteady legs, I stand here for a moment, trying to find my bearings. My will to find the elevator and use it to get myself out of here before something happens that will undoubtedly make this mess a million times worse. I can try again in a few days, when we’re both calmer. Maybe ask him to meet me somewhere so we can have a rational conversation about how we’re going to navigate the fact that unbeknownst to either of us, we both somehow ended up working for the Gilroys.
Looking around the darkened room, I find the illuminated button panel belonging to the elevator. Cautiously making my way to it, I find my bag on the table beside it, just like Went promised. Reaching for it, I mean to shoulder it and leave. Instead I reach into the belly of it and pull out my phone. It’s after 5AM.
Without giving myself time to think about what I’m doing, I pull up my texts and tap out a message before hitting send.
Me: Hi, do you need me this morning?
Because I know he’s been awake for a while now, I’m not at all surprised when he texts back almost immediately.
Ryan: No
Like I knew he’d already be awake, I also knew that would be his answer. Ryan hasn’t needed me in months and even when he did, he’d be hard pressed to admit it.
Me: Okay… a bunch of my friends are taking the train to New York for the day and asked me if I wanted to go. Is it okay if Mook stays with you for a while longer?
Ryan: Sure. Be careful.
Staring at my phone screen for a few minutes, I feel my heart start to race, the cadence of it fast and uneven.
Me: Thank you. I’ll text if I’m going to be super late.
Ryan: It’s all good. Have fun.
Switching my phone off, I shove it back into my bag before turning toward the hallway Went disappeared down only a few minutes ago. It’s dark, save for a light shining through an open doorway at the end of it.
That’s where Went is.
Kicking off my shoes, I leave them by the table holding my purse to pad across the living room in my bare feet. Through what I can now see is a dining room and past a dark kitchen to walk down the hall toward the room at the end of it. because I don’t want to talk any more than he does, not really, and I don’t want to fight.
I want the same thing Went does.
Stopping in the open doorway, I find Went in a large, brightly lit room. On one end of it is a kitchenette that looks like it gets more use than the actual kitchen. Not far from it is a king-sized mattress on the floor, its white hotel sheets rumpled like it’s been recently slept on. In the middle of the room is a large, backlit drafting table, strewn with art pads and pencils. Went is sitting at the desk, in nothing but a pair of track pants and tattoo ink. He’s working. Head bent. Fingers wrapped around a pencil while they guide it across paper, every stroke shaping an image I can’t see.
He hasn’t noticed you yet. It’s not too late to leave. Despite what he said, he probably wishes you would. Probably said what he said to scare you out the door.
God, I hope not.
Like he can read my mind, as soon as I think it, Went’s brow furrows, a second before he flicks a quick, hard look at me through his lashes, the heat of it telling me that he meant every word. That if I tried to leave now, I wouldn’t even make the elevator.
Tossing his pencil down with a sigh, Went closes his art pad before sitting back in his chair, long, powerful legs sprawled wide. Broad, muscular chest bare. Devil black gaze pinned to mine. I’d forgotten how beautiful he is. How wild and desperate looking at him makes me feel. He lifts a hand and points at the floor in front of him. “Come here.”
Even though my knees wobble at his tone, I step into the room. Forcing myself to move slowly, I do what he says, crossing the room to stand in the space between his legs and wait for him to tell me what to do.
Whatever it is, I’ll do it.
I’ll want to do it.
Because standing here in front of him, everything I’ve ever felt for him comes rushing back and it’s like no time has passed at all.
Sitting up slowly, Went leans into the space between us and lifts his arms. Hooking his fingers into the waistband of my yoga pants, he peels them down over my hips. Down my legs until they’re pooled at my feet. Stepping out of them, I feel my breath catch in my throat when he wraps his hands around the backs of my thighs and pulls me closer, off my feet until I’m straddling him, my knees dug into the chair he’s sitting in, on either side of his hips. Hands braced on his shoulders, breath locked in my throat, I feel the rough palms of his hands slide up the backs of my legs to mold themselves around my lace-covered ass cheeks and squeeze. When his blunt-tipped fingers slip lower to tease me between my thighs, I let out a soft, fluttering sound, somewhere between a whimper and a moan, the desperation I hear in it enough to flush my cheeks with embarrassment.
“Some things never change,” Went growls in my ear while the fingers pressed between my thighs push deeper, skimming their tips along the wet, lace-covered seam of my slit. “Still a greedy little cock slut…” Still teasing me, he cups my pussy from behind, each word punctuated with a tap of his long middle finger against my swollen clit.
“ Yes …” I moan it, already too far gone to be embarrassed. Too desperate to be ashamed. Lifting a hand off his shoulder, I grip the back of the chair behind it and tilt my hips, rubbing my pussy against the hard press of his hand. “Please…”
The hand between my thighs gives my pussy a hard, punishing squeeze, his finger still tapping against my clit. “Please what? ”
“ Please fuck me …” Head thrown back, eyes screwed shut, I flex my hips again while the hand gripped around his shoulder loosens to fall between us. Pushing lower, I grip the soaking wet crotch of my panties and jerk it to the side. “ I’m a greedy little cock slut and I need to be fucked. ”
“ Fuuuck .” He groans it against my neck, the harsh breath of it cool against my feverish skin. “ Mine —” Pushing his fingers against the slick seam of my pussy, Went fucks them into me on a hard, deep stroke that tightens my grip against the back of his chair. “This pussy is still mine— look at me and say it .”
Lowering my head, I force my eyes open to find him looking up at me, jaw set and angry, almost like he’s waiting for me to deny it. “Yours…” Pushing myself up higher on my knees, I catch my lower lip between my teeth on a soft mewling sound when I feel his fingers move inside me. Lifting myself almost completely off his fingers, I sink back down, fucking myself with the wide, callused length of them. “Still yours.”
Lifting his hand off my hip, he fists it in the hem of my sweatshirt to jerk it up, over my head, with a vicious growl and tosses it away. He pushes his hand into the space between us, his dark, feral gaze still burning up at me. “Still mine…” He teases and circles the pad of his thumb against my throbbing clit while he nips and teases my stiff, swollen nipple with his tongue and teeth before sucking it into his mouth on another deep, rough thrust of his fingers.
Flexing and rolling my hips against every hard pump, I push my hands into his hair and hang on for dear life as something hot and tight starts to twist and slide its way down my spine. “ Oh —” It comes out on a sharp gasp, a second before its all ripped away.
“No you don’t...” He growls at me, pulling his hands from between my legs. “You’re not getting off that easy.” Fitting his hands under my ass, Went stands, lifting me off his lap to set me on his desk before pulling my ruined panties off completely and dropping them on the floor. “You’re not coming anywhere but on my cock,” he tells me, head lowered while he works open the drawstring on his pants. Loosened, he jerks them down around his hips before fisting a large, rough hand around his stiff cock. Mouth suddenly dry, I feel the hard, uneven rhythm of my heart pulsing between my legs. I forgot how big he was. How good it felt to be fucked by him. Giving himself a long, slow stroke, Went squeezes the head of his cock, gathering his pre-cum before sliding his hand down his shaft. “You still taking birth control?”
Mouth open, I shake my head because I’m not. I stopped taking the pill years ago. Heart hammering, pussy throbbing, I make myself say it, even though I’m afraid my answer will change his mind about what happens next. “No.”
Went flicks that black feral look at me through his lashes, a second before he steps into the space between my open thighs. Hands gripped tight around them to hold me steady, the corner of his mouth tips up in a humorless smirk. “Good,” he growls, right before he slams himself into me on a single, hard stroke that nearly turns me inside out. Curls my fingers into claws and rips them down his back on a long, shuddering moan, my pussy suddenly stretched and filled to its limits. “Maybe that’s where I went wrong,” Went growls in my ear, his hips rolling and flexing, fucking me slow and deep. Hand streaking up my spine, he fists it in my hair, angling my head with a rough yank, forcing me to look up at him while the heat and pressure of the orgasm I was on the brink of only minutes ago starts to rebuild. “Maybe I was too nice…” Hips still moving, the hand gripped around my thigh pulls, opening me so wide I hiss out a breath when he fucks himself into me again, even deeper than before, pleasure and pain twisting together so perfectly my vision starts to swim and my entire body begins to shake beneath the weight of it. “Gave you what you wanted and not what you needed.”
“Went—” I have no idea what I was about to say but it doesn’t matter.
The hand wrapped in my hair grips even harder, so tight his knuckles dig into my scalp. “ Not. A. Fucking. Word .” He practically snarls it, every syllable accompanied by a hard, deep thrust, each one more punishing than the last. “All I want from you is to feel my perfect little pussy milk my cock dry.” The hand on my hip slips higher to slick its thumb over my swollen clit in a relentless rhythm that twists me tighter and pushes me to the brink. “ Now be a good little cock slut and come for me .”
Like my body was waiting for him to say the words, it shatters into a million pieces. Wave after wave of heat blasts its way through me while my pussy grips and pulsates around his cock, buried so deep inside me it feels like we’re fused together. Forcing my eyes open, I find Went staring down at me, jaw clenched. Harsh, uneven breath sawing through his lungs while he watches and feels me come apart around him. “I told you you’re not getting off that easy.” Before I can catch my breath, he pulls out and flips me over to face his desk, forcing me to brace myself up on my hands because my legs are boneless and unable to hold my weight.
Staring down at his closed art book, I gasp when I feel Went’s fingers trace the quivering seam of my pussy, gathering my cum before he pushes there tips past my battered entrance. “Open it.”
Unsure that I can trust my body to stay upright without the support of both my hands, I unlock one of my elbows so I can do as he says. Flipping the cover open, the first drawing I see is of us, standing in front of the bathroom mirror at Northpoint. Went’s hand buried between my thighs. The other wrapped around my throat. My stomach covered in his cum because I wanted it. Asked for it and he gave me what I wanted.
I want the picture.
The fingers in my pussy push deep enough to buckle my knees, pumping in and out. Even though he doesn’t tell me to, I flip the page. Another drawing. This one is of us in the kitchen at Northpoint. My legs wrapped around his waist. His hand fisted in my hair. Teeth buried in his tattooed skin while he cock strokes me against the counter.
You can’t see my face in either one.
Pulling his fingers out of my pussy, Went hooks his thumbs under my ass cheeks and spreads them wide before notching the head of his still hard cock against my entrance. “Keep looking…” he groans on a hard, deep thrust that nearly turns my knees to water.
Palm pressed into the desk, elbow wobbling, I scramble my free hand across thick paper, trying to catch the edge of it, barely able to flip the page on a needy mewling whimper when Went presses his cum slicked fingers between my ass cheeks to tease and circle them against my tight, puckered hole.
Went fucking me from behind in our marriage bed. The panties I’d been wearing cut away from my pussy with the knife he carries in his pocket. His long, thick cock buried inside me while he fucks my ass with one of his wide, callused fingers.
“ Yes …” I moan it, eyes glued to the drawing in front of me. “ Please …” Instead of punishing me, this time Went gives me what I want. What I’m begging for, working his finger inside me on slow, shallow thrusts while he fucks my pussy in tandem, until I’m moaning and writhing uncontrollably. Grinding back, against the deliciously heavy feeling of being fucked and filled by him completely. Until tears are streaming down my face and my pussy slams closed around him like a vice and I’m shattering for him again while he finally comes inside me with a vicious curse that sounds like my name.