Epilogue
It’s good to be home, back in town, drinking her silly little mocktail that helps her fit in at the glamorously decorated bar.
She’s at one of her favorite restaurants, getting a bite to eat with the casual slowness of someone who has all the time in the world. She glances down at her watch momentarily before taking another drink-
A man takes his place beside her, smelling of some expensive cologne, something woodsy. Sophisticated and clean. Kara enjoys the smell of it as he sinks down beside her, despite all the open chairs at this particular bar.
“None of the other chairs looked good to you?” She asks him coolly, with an air of being unimpressed, an eyebrow raised. She injects bitch into her tone, just enough.
“None of those other chairs were by you,” the rude intruder replies smoothly, eyes glittering with sly amusement. “You might not like the company, but I do.”
The arrogance of this man lights up her nerves. “Oh, so what I want doesn’t matter, so long as you’re having a good time? How misogynist of you.”
His mouth nearly quirks with amusement. With a huff, Kara averts her face and pretends to ignore him. He’s ruining her solitude.
It seems bludgeoning the man with disinterest isn’t going to work, because he’s still talking. “What’s your name, Princess?” God, the smugness makes her want to shake him. That and his persistence.
Fuck. She forgot to think a name up beforehand. “Kelly.”
“ Kelly? ” It sounds like he wants to choke on the name for a moment, but he covers it up swiftly. “How…quaint.”
“ Hm .” She makes a gesture, as if shooing him away. He catches her hand in one of his large, warm palms. Kara turns her head to glower at him, sending him the message nonverbally, how dare you presume to touch me?
“Tell me, Kelly .” He stresses her name with a smirk that makes his features more handsome than it has any right to be. “What do you do?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m a lawyer. Working at one of our local firms.” Kara looks him up and down slowly, because he does look rather nice in that suit, tailored to perfection. Go figure. She yanks her hand out of his grasp on principle. “And you? CEO of Misogyny Outfitters?”
That growing smirk of his simply reeks of trouble . His tropical eyes, dancing with entertainment at her expense. “Close. Hedge Fund Manager.”
Oh, he would pick something so utterly pretentious, wouldn’t he? God, she wants to eat him alive. She’d flay him with her tongue if she could. She feels her mouth quirk with a sharp smile of amusement. “Maybe you’ll have to tell me about that. Is that a stressful job?” Her tone mocks. “Is your idea of letting loose harassing young women at the bar?”
His eyes slide over her subtle cleavage. “I’d tell you, but I wouldn’t want to bore you with such things, dollface.”
That’s a new one. “You call all the random girls you meet ‘dollface’?” She gestures to the bartender that she wants to settle her bill, because clearly this strange man is ruining her mood and she wants to escape ASAP. The bartender understands how it is for a young woman alone and gets right on it with a knowing look.
The man beside her drinks his gin down and Kara watches his throat work. He’s powerful and crisp in this navy blazer, the cut of his shoulders, the brightness of his blue eyes. His presence is compelling, just as his arrogance is repulsive. “Just you. The real special ones, I call them sweetpea.”
Ha. Ha.
“Glad I’m not one of your special ones . I’d hate to be called that,” Kara eggs him on with a bite in her tone. She bares her teeth, just a touch. A sliver of violence in her gaze. “I’m not sweet.”
“Maybe not,” he murmurs, eyes going darker, hot with something like desire. He likes that she’s not easy, that she’s refusing him. Sick bastard-
He leans in close and whispers in her ear, breath shifting her hair. “You might not be sweet, but I bet you taste like it between your thighs.”
Kara feels her face go red. Oh . It’s definitely time to get out of here.
Even as her insides coil with liquid hunger, Kara lifts her chin and gets off her fancy cushioned barstool. Giving him her most offended stare, Kara hisses under her breath, “You absolute pig. You disgust me. Have fun harassing someone else .”
A hint of a sneer shapes his mouth at her blunt refusal and Kara wants to set her teeth to his lips. Instead, she turns on her heel and marches herself out of the restaurant bar, out into the night streets where life has begun to get a little quieter.
She walks with a sauntering sort of purpose, just slow enough. Just until she knows that she’s being followed in the dark. Any lone woman’s nightmare. When the sound of footsteps appears behind her, Kara feels her blood heat, pulse so heavy that she can almost taste it on her tongue. The night air blows about her legs, under her black skirt. She’s too heated to care about the chill.
Kara turns the corner, clutching her purse a little tighter, the urge to run becoming stronger. She’s being stalked and the thrill of it makes her wet in ways that it shouldn’t. But she’s never been normal, now has she?
When she picks up her pace, the footsteps behind her do the same. Her heart flutters madly. The thrill of a chase.
…and she is being chased.
Rounding another corner, remembering the route in her mind, Kara strides as fast as her heels will let her. The street is mostly empty and when the man behind her catches up, there’s no one to hear her muffled yelp of terror as she’s yanked into an even darker alley, hidden from sight.
On instinct, Kara throws her head back, trying to catch her attacker in the nose, but he’s too tall for it to make any impact. Snarling, she thrashes in his strong hold, trying to stomp on his nice shoes with her vicious heels. He moves his feet, kicking hers open, ruining her leverage as he presses her front up against the brick wall.
“Bitch,” he rasps. “Don’t mess up my fine leather shoes with those ratty dime-store heels of yours.”
Kara gasps in genuine outrage; she happens to love these heels! “Get off of me, you bastard!” She elbows him in the gut, but it has little effect; he’s simply too strong compared to her petite frame. She’s completely outclassed. “I’ll tell the cops about you. I’ve seen your face-”
His body is a furnace against her back as he grinds against her, purring, “They won’t believe you. I’d make sure of it, dollface.” His erection is firm, pressing between her cheeks, filling the space as he humps against her, letting her feel what she has coming to her.
He wants her to feel the effect she has on him. How hard he is, how ready to fuck-
Snarling, Kara retorts, “I don’t want you, you fucking freak. You’re hurting me-”
“Don’t fight so hard,” the bastard hisses in her ear as he lifts her skirt up, pressing her front to the brick wall even more. “You might even enjoy the ride.” He yanks her panties to the side and feels her with his hand, his palm sliding against her shamefully wet center. “Oh, you lying slut,” he groans. “You’re already soaked. You need this.”
“No,” Kara rests her forehead against the brick and pants hotly, feeling the wetness grow, leaking onto his hand as he fondles her. He rubs and plays her body like an instrument, making her quiver with desire against her will.
“Don’t pretend. You’re dripping.” He spreads her lower lips, dips his fingers inside, and strokes her as she shudders.
She can hear him putting her copious slick on his cock, can hear the sound of him stroking it, the wet tip shoving against her ass. The bulbous head plays against her rear entrance, making her squeal and fight more, begging, “Please, not there-”
He grunts with hunger, using his hand to press his tip harder against her puckered entrance. “Maybe I want your tight ass. Maybe I’ll fuck your greedy whore cunt after.”
Pleading with him, Kara puts a flicker of nervousness into her tone. “Please, don’t. I’ll do anything. Just…just don’t hurt me, Sir. Please . I’ll be good.”
He nips at her throat, whispering, “When you ask so nicely…”
When his cock enters her slick channel, Kara can’t even stifle the surprised moan that falls from her lips. He groans in response, hands tight on her hips as he settles deep within her, as if coming home. Her cunt spreads around him, sucking him in, wetting his thick girth. The sound of it is lewd to their ears as he pushes in and out slowly. Grinding, ploughing her deep.
Anyone walking by might hear them. Anyone more than curious could enter the alley and see Kara with her hands on the brick wall, ass pushed out, the man standing behind her, thrusting steadily. Their bodies slapping together, their muffled sounds of arousal.
Pleasure is a tidal wave, careening out of control as Kara tightens up around this horrible stranger who’s taken control of her body. He knows every spot, every place that makes her body sing. It’s not fair.
“That’s more like it, sweetpea.” His voice is danger and lust personified. “I knew you wanted it like this in the bar. To be fucked like a whore.” He thrusts again. Kara cries out weakly, her channel fluttering around his thickness.
She’s dripping down her legs. Her fingers find her clit, helping herself along.
Trembling, her core clenches around him as he takes her against the wall shamelessly. The wet sound of her cunt, filthy in the night air. His animalistic grunts and groans fill her ears as he works against her, taking. The fact that anyone walking by this alley could see them only adds another level of excitement to it all.
Looking over her shoulder briefly, Kara finds her mouth occupied with his as he kisses her. He takes control swiftly, his tongue dancing with hers. One of his hands goes between her legs, playing with her clit. Desire fills her belly, the edge so close-
“Do your worst, Mr. Hedge Fund.” Kara gasps into his mouth as he grinds into that place inside that makes her ache out of her mind.
She’s ready to explode and he knows just how to make her fall apart.
Nicholas Havenwood-Calais smirks against her lips.
He does his worst.
And Kara loves every vicious, depraved second of it.