My dick is big and she’s small, so I bend down until I feel her wet heat with my tip. I bite her shoulder lightly then thrust hard. Her cry echoes off the walls with her hands braced higher up. I take her hips and fuck, lost in her, lost in the sensations of her sweet little pussy.
My fingers dig deeper as our bodies gyrate together, slicker by the second. I close my eyes and let the water rain down over me as movements become erratic, compromised by the slipperiness. Close. So close. I will never have enough of her, never satisfy the heavier urges my heart craves. So I stake claims for her, but more for me. “You’re mine. You know that?”
“I always have been.” Her words are strained and then sucked back in as she takes another deep breath.
“Mine. Fucking mine. Always. Say it.”
“Always yours, Alexander.”
“King,” I demand, fucking her harder. She knows what I want. It’s something she only gives me when I’m at my best, in my opinion, worst in hers.
She won’t say it. I know her too well to know she won’t play into that game. And I’m coming too fast. “Fuck,” I shout and pull out, my cum covering her lower back and dripping lower. Backing away to the corner, my breathing is harsh as I stare at my painting with pride. I shrug. “What can I say? You feel too good.” She rinses her body and steps out of the shower without a word.
She’s pissed off.
I won’t make apologies just yet. She felt too good to be sorry. Lazily, I clean up and shut the water off. I step out and grab a towel from the rack. “Come on. Don’t be mad.”
“Easy for you to say. You came.”
Her feistiness is a turn-on. If I didn’t just fuck her, I’d try again. This time I’d fuck that damn sexy mouth of hers. “I’ll make it up to you.”
“I think you’ve done enough. Now I’m late for class and wound up.”
I take the ends of the towel wrapped around her and tug her to me. “Don’t be mad.” I kiss her on the head, and then give her the smirk that will win her over, easing her irritation. “I’ll make it up to you tonight. I promise.”
“I have a group project to work on tonight. I’m going to stay on campus.” She backs away, not looking at me while running the towel over her hair.
My brow cinches as I watch her. “Hey, are you really upset?”
“I’m not happy.”
When she still doesn’t look at me, I nudge her. “Don’t be like that.”
That gets her attention. She stands straight up, throws her hand on her hip, and narrows her eyes. “Like what, Alexander? What am I being like?”
“I know where this is going, and I’m not doing it. Don’t start a fight where there is none.”
“I learned from the best. It’s what you do every day.”
“Not with you.” When she turns her back on me, I lose it. “I’m warning yo—”
Spinning on her heels, she points at me. “You’re warning me? I’m not one of your lackeys, Alexander. Stop trying to make King happen. I don’t call you King, and I never will. So don’t you dare warn me about anything.”
If she were one of my so-called lackeys, she’d be knocked right the fuck out for that. Seeing her with wet, messed-up hair, a towel wrapped around her, and her finger poking my chest, I stand down, deciding to give her the respect she demands. “Fuck, you’re scary, Firefly.”
Her hand falls to her side, and she rolls her eyes, but the smile I wanted to see is there and brings one to my mouth. When the tension in her muscles loses its momentum, she says, “You’re ridiculous. Get dressed. We’re both late.”
Thirty minutes later, I kiss her before we open the door. I straighten the backpack on her shoulder and wrap my other arm around her. She whispers, “Be civil with your father.”
“It will be a struggle, but I’ll try. For you, I’ll try.” Stepping back, I hold a few fingers up pledge style, not sure if it’s supposed to be two or three. “Scout’s honor.”
“You were never a scout,” she corrects and laughs, stepping into the hall. “But try. Okay?”
After slapping her ass, I wink. “I always do.”
2
Alexander
The elevator doors open wide and the gleaming gold Kingwood Enterprises logo greets me. I flip it off and take a left, pushing through the spotless glass doors. Kimberly, the receptionist, smiles before tapping her watch. “Good morning, Alex.”
“If it’s still morning, I’m ahead of schedule.”
One eyebrow is raised. “Your father is in a mood.”
She’s pretty. A hot redhead with her hair in its typical tidy bun, and her librarian fuck-me glasses blocking her real beauty. My father’s fucked her. A couple times. What she sees in him is beyond me. The egotistical asshole has slept his way through a bevy of beautiful women since my mom’s death. Kimberly’s the only one I wish he hadn’t. She’s nice and talks to me as if I matter. The rest are just after his money. She deserves someone better. He treats her like shit, and I know it’s never going to be anything more than side action for him. Leaning against the counter, I ask, “You got a boyfriend these days?”
“Why? You asking me out?” she smarts back.
“Eh, I’m no good. Hasn’t my father told you?”
Her smile comes gently, sympathy built into the creases at the corner. “What does he know anyway?” She hands me a message, and asks, “How’s that pretty girl of yours?”
“Mad at me.” I chuckle remembering how tough Sara Jane tries to act when all I see is a cute little snuggler if scary movies are on.
“You probably deserve it.”
“I definitely deserve it. She deserves better.” I pat the counter twice. “So do you by the way.”
She shrugs and fidgets with a pen. “Things happen for a reason. I guess I’m willing to stick it out a little longer to find out what that reason is.”
Nodding. She’ll find out the hard way. Sadly. “Take care and thanks for the message.” I head toward the bullpen and open the door.
“Good luck.”
“Thanks,” I reply, entering the chaos of cubicle city. Phones are ringing, conversations are whispered, and the sound of typing can be heard. I head to my desk before paying the inevitable visit to my father.
I pat Cruise on the back when I pass. “Any news?” I ask the same question every day, for reasons I don’t talk about anymore. My friend knows, and he’s proven he’s here to help me. It’s a mission that never seems to end, an emptiness that fills my gut waiting for answers.
“No. Sorry, King.”
Breathing out a sigh of relief, I realize that besides Sara Jane, that answer is the only constant in my life. “Okay.” I sit down and turn on my computer.
From the other side of the cubicle wall, Cruise says, “Your dad came looking for you about twenty minutes ago. He’s in with some suits now.”
“Alex?”
Speaking of . . . I look toward his office and see him leaning in the doorway. Waving me over. “Come.”