20. hayes
TWENTY
hayes
F allon’s eyes widen, and then she glances over her shoulder at the windows of her shop. Anyone could walk past and see what I plan to do to her, and I’d encourage it. Let them watch me defile the innocent, naive bookshop owner they’ve all come to love and admire. Watch how she moves for me. Watch how she comes for me. Take a front-row seat and witness how quickly she’s falling for me. I didn’t anticipate how simple it’d be to earn her trust, nor did I realize how easily they’d let me into how this store runs. I’ve gathered information quickly.
“Fallon, do as I said.”
I don’t know what happened to her today or why Thomas was so worried about her. I know she went to the lighthouse. I heard her tell him I brought her there once and that being there makes her feel safe. And I know there’s something about her past that she isn’t telling me.
I know I want to unravel her.
I want to be the black ink poisoning her.
With trembling hands, most likely from nerves, Fallon grabs the hem of her sweatshirt and pulls it over her head. I could tell from the picture she sent earlier that there was no bra beneath her compression shirt from the way her nipples had peaked, just as they are now.
Wordlessly, I wait for her to continue.
She slips out of her shoes, then pushes the waistband of her sweatpants down, leaving her in the shorts that are short enough to sit perfectly in the crease of her thighs. I didn’t lie to her the other night—I don’t get jealous. But I am possessive. To me, there’s a difference. I know only I can make her come as hard as she does, but I am also aware that other men would love to try. Seeing how she arches her back just as she’s about to come would be a high for any man.
“Spin.”
Lifting on her toes, Fallon spins in a slow circle. Her shorts have ridden up to reveal a couple inches of her ass, and I imagine every person in the class was gifted this view. Fallon isn’t cocky. She’s very humble and unaware of the effect she has on the people around her, but she’s also confident in her body.
It might be one of her sexiest attributes.
Not once has she ever shied away from me.
I’ve been with women who try to hide themselves every time they’re naked. It angers me each time. Not because they’re doing it but because they feel they need to. They haven’t been with a man who appreciates a woman’s body in all its forms. No woman’s body is the same, and it’s been a treat every time to explore curves I never have before.
But with Fallon? I’d be content exploring only hers.
She’s wrapped in layers of mystery.
We’re short on time. As much as I’d love to drag this out and edge her, there’s something I need to show her before we leave. I’ll need to make her come quickly again. The more we fuck, the longer she’ll last each time, and the orgasms will only intensify. She probably thinks this is as good as it gets.
My sweet girl.
I slide off the counter and grab her waist, spinning her around and hoisting her up. Her legs wrap around my waist to hold me close, but I need her spread wide open. Her eyes keep darting to the front of the store, undoubtedly watching for people to pass by. I grab her chin and refocus her attention on me. “Eyes on me, Fallon. If you want to come, you won’t look anywhere else. Understood?”
“But anyone could see?—”
“So?” I rest my hands on her thighs. “It’s me and you in here. Who gives a fuck what others think?” I kiss her softly. “Were you happy to see me today?”
“Of course,” she whispers, resting her palms against my chest. “I’m always happy to see you, Fitz.”
Something warm and sticky oozes through my chest every time she says that. It’s so simple. It’s something you could say to a stranger. To an acquaintance you haven’t seen for a while. But the way Fallon says it to me sounds so honest.
Before I fall down the rabbit hole of why those words feel so heavy, I reiterate what I said to her. “Eyes on me.”
“Eyes on you,” she repeats, then she kisses me. Her fingers thread through my hair, her tongue slips past my lips, and her chest presses against mine.
The embrace is passionate and raw, and I find myself returning it, almost as if I missed her today. It was as if I felt her absence each time the door opened, and she wasn’t the one walking through it. It was as if every time someone passed by her stacks of classic novels, I was brought back to our first encounter. How irritating I found her to be. How degrading she was. How irresistible I found her bright green eyes.
How time with her never feels like enough. Like I’m somehow running out of it quicker than anticipated.
She fumbles for the hem of my shirt but manages to get it up and over my head. Before she can resume our kiss, I remove her shirt and lower to suck her nipple between my lips while kneading her other breast. I don’t know if she realizes what she’s doing, but she applies pressure to the top of my head to sink lower. She wants my tongue in her cunt.
Happy to oblige, I slip my fingers into her waistband and slide her shorts off. But before I devour, I take a step back and admire. Teasingly, she parts her knees slowly, inch by inch, and scoots closer to the edge of the counter. Even from here, I can see how wet she already is from just a kiss and possibly the anticipation of coming. I want to make this a little more challenging for her. “Do you have any excerpts memorized?”
She blinks. “What?”
I step forward and drag my thumb down her clit. Fuck, I want to taste her. “Something from a book, Fallon.”
Her fingertips daintily trace one of the tattoos on my left arm. “Is this your idea of foreplay?”
Placing one hand against her chest, I slowly push her down so she’s flat on her back. “Answer.”
She squirms when I kiss down her stomach. “Yes, I have the speech from Pride & Prejudice memorized.”
I drag my nose across her clit. “Recite it.”
“Fuck, okay,” she murmurs, adjusting her hips. “Um, from the very beginning?—”
I suck her clit between my lips.
She sucks in a tight breath. “You cannot be serious right now. Ah, from the first moment, I may almost say…”
I throw my arm across her stomach to stop her wiggling. I’m trying not to laugh at her reactions. This might’ve been cruel, but I can guarantee she won’t ever look at Mr. Darcy the same way again. “Keep going,” I encourage when she silences.
She clears her throat. “Of my acquaintance with you…” She moans when I slip my tongue inside her. “I can’t?—”
I replace my tongue with two of my fingers, curling them inside her and grinning when a shiver rocks her entire body. “You taste so sweet, my little tragedy. You were going to shower and deny me this.”
“I’m sorry?” She phrases the apology like a question.
I flick my tongue against her clit repeatedly while moving my fingers steadily inside her. I could come from only this. I wouldn’t even need to jerk off. I’ve had my fair share of pussy, but I can’t remember one ever tasting this good. It would be my luck that a woman as bullheaded as her would have the best-tasting pussy. Not only do women like this stress you out, but they get you addicted to the way they taste.
They leave you wanting more.
And that’s all I’ve wanted from her every time we’re together. More attitude, more arguments, more pussy. She’s like a siren, beckoning me closer and striking my ego down.
It’s maddening and alluring all at once.
She cries my name when her back arches off the counter, her fingers pressing into my arm splayed across her stomach. I could stay here and do it all again, but we only have moments before Thomas starts calling.
Raising and grabbing her hips, I slide her off the counter and spin her around so her stomach is pressed against the edge. I realize she’s most likely dizzy and disoriented, but my desperation to be inside her is blurring my vision.
I discard my pants in seconds, fist my cock, and slam into her. Gasping from the force, she bends forward, pressing her chest against the counter and gripping the edge. But she doesn’t ask me to stop. She doesn’t ask to breathe. Instead, she pushes her ass against me and silently encourages me for more. I give it willingly, thrusting unsteadily until I’m able to slow my heart rate a tick.
“Fallon,” I rasp, pressing my thumb against her spine. “Fuck, I’ve thought about this all day.” My other hand kneads her ass. “Fuck, fuck,” I say repeatedly.
Her breathless moans fill the room. One of the iPads falls off the counter from the rocking, but she doesn’t seem to notice or care. I’ll buy her a hundred more if she always lets me fuck her like this—raw and submissive.
“Spread your legs a little more, baby.”
She scoots her legs apart a couple more inches, allowing me a slightly better angle to drive into her. And that’s exactlywhat does it for her. “Fitz.” Her voice scratches. “Right there, right there, right there?—”
I cry her name when I come, gifting her two more thrusts before she unravels around me again. I collapse on top of her, our chests moving in tandem as we try to catch our breath. With my eyes closed, my cock twitches inside her as visions of only her fill my mind. I’m tempted to persuade her to stay in tonight, but I must remain wrapped up in her world. Isolating her for my own twisted needs might drive her away. I need to keep living as someone who could be her boyfriend, as a man able to commit.
I press my lips against her shoulder. I won’t allow myself to feel guilty. Not about this. She’s the enemy , I repeat silently to myself. But as often as I say it, I can’t make it sound convincing enough. She’s an actual threat to my livelihood—to the life I’ve become used to. She could throw a wrench in FFJ expanding into this area.
Why does that sound obsolete whenever I repeatedly rehearse this same speech in my head?
Fallon’s phone buzzes from wherever it landed on the floor. We haven’t even begun closing the store. “I need to show you something.” I slowly pull out of her and wait until she’s steady on her feet before grabbing her hand. “There was another reason Thomas wanted you out of the store today.”
I lead her to the back wall of the store, one of the very few that doesn’t have a bookshelf against it. A felt board is hanging on the wall, which I hung today. And pinned against it are two Polaroid pictures. The first is of me and Thomas together, smiling at the camera. The second is a candid Thomas snapped of me hanging the board up. In the photo, I’m glancing over my shoulder with a scowl, and he promised she’d love it when she saw it.
“You’ll keep the cameras at the register, but customers can have their pictures taken, or you can offer to take one to add to your board.” I kiss the top of her head. “Thomas wanted you to have tangible evidence of the difference you make.”
Her silence worries me. I grab her waist and gently turn her around to face me, only to see that her eyes are lined with tears. “Hey,” I whisper, “if you don’t like it?—”
“I love it,” she murmurs, sniffling. “I love how much he loves me. And I love that you helped.” She slides her arms around my waist and pierces me with her gaze. “Thank you.”
I removed myself from her, only to return to the counter and retrieve a camera. With a grin, I beckon her over and lift her to sit on the counter again, standing behind her. “We won’t put this on the wall,” I say through a laugh, then hold the camera in front of us and press the button.
The camera clicks and pops as it prints the picture. Fallon takes it and fans it, holding it out for me to see.
My chest threatens to crack open when it develops.
I don’t even recognize the smile on my face.