Текст книги "Raw"

Автор книги: Belle Aurora

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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

She’s making this too easy on me. I feel she needs to be rewarded for her good behavior. After all, when a dog does a trick or behaves, he gets a treat. And so Lexi shall get her treat.

Reclining in the chair, I place my arms behind my head, and her gaze drifts up to my exposed forearms. She likes the tattoos. A stupid part of my brain is pleased that she likes the tattoos. Snapping my fingers, her eyes come back to me.

Good puppy.

“Lift your skirt.”

Leaning back away from me, she watches me through narrowed eyes. She looks at me as if I’ve lost my mind. All I know is that she hasn’t moved a muscle. And I want her skirt lifted. So I repeat, “Lift it.” Her eyes dart from side to side, and I know she’s weighing up the pros and cons in her mind. Sweetening the deal, I tell her on a whisper, “If you lift your skirt, I’ll make it so good, it’ll be worth getting caught over.”

Straightening a moment, she shakes her head as she reaches for the hem of her skirt and utters, “What is it about you that makes me want to do very stupid things?”

And although I don’t do more than smirk at her, I’m laughing on the inside. She really is cute sometimes.

Such a shame.

Sliding the material up past her knees, I watch through hooded eyes as she inches the skirt higher, higher up her silky smooth thighs, until I see white cotton peek out of the juncture between her legs. Tipping my head back, I hold in the urge to groan, just barely. Pulling myself forward a foot, without permission, I reach forward and under her skirt, hook the panties with my thumbs and tug. Then they’re gone.

Plain cotton panties.

These panties on anyone else would disgust me. I like my women to dress nice at all times; that includes lingerie. Lexi steps out of her panties and sits her ass back on the edge of the desk. Looking up at her, I ask in all seriousness, “Tell me what you need from me to make this contract legal.”

The stunned disbelief on her face is priceless. Looking around the back of the room with a confused expression etched on her face, she utters robotically, “Umm, okay then. Well, we need proof that you own the Falcon Plastics, as well as…” Lifting her legs swiftly, I place her heel-covered feet on my shoulders, and bury my face into the warmth of her pussy. She yelps, then squeaks, “…Ayyye!”

Lifting my head a moment, I warn, “You stop explaining and I stop too. Make it count.”

Lowering my face into her mouth-watering bald snatch, I don’t waste time with foreplay. This is foreplay. And I tell myself that rushing this has nothing to do with the fact that she smells so good that I fucking have to taste her before I start ripping shit apart. Softly swiping my tongue up her slit, that first taste is all I need to feel heady. She tastes amazing. Like a pussy should taste. Mildly musky, light, and slightly spicy.

My cock jerks in my pants. I feel the pre-cum beading. I shouldn’t be doing this. She should be sucking me off.

But I can’t stop tasting her.

She prattles off information that I don’t need, and I’m sure makes no sense, just to make sure I don’t stop my sweet torture. And, I gotta say, it makes me happy that she can follow instructions under pressure. It’s a relief knowing when shit gets heavy between us, she’ll cope. At least a little.

Looking up at her from between her legs, I bury my tongue into her wet warmth and watch her closely. Eyes closed, she talks softly as I slide my hands up her body to squeezes her tit, while the other pinches and rolls her opposite nipple. Not able to hold myself back, I groan into her and feel her muscles clench around my tongue. Unbelievable. I’ve never got off this much on eating pussy. But it’s Lexi’s pussy…

Reaching under her, I place my hands under her ass and grip the firm cheeks tightly while pulling her into my face, forcing my tongue deeper inside her. She stops talking a moment and moans long and low. Just when I think I’ve won, as soon as her moan ends, she starts up again, chattering away quietly. Too quietly. I can’t even make out what she’s saying. But I have to give her props for trying.

She can finish. I’ll allow it.

Pulling out of her, I flatten my tongue at her entrance and lick torturously slow, swirling my tongue all the way up to her clit. “Close?” I ask.

Nodding, she opens her eyes and looks down at me through the haze I’m feeling as much as she is. I tell her, “I want you to come, Alexa.”

I would never say ‘You can come when you like’. That makes is sound like a request. Which it is not.

I’m a demanding guy. So sue me.

Lowering my mouth to her clit, I suck it gently in a steady rhythm before sucking hard. Lexi’s hands fly to my head as she begins to grind herself against my face. Her breathing deepens, and she groans low in her throat. I keep up my sexual assault, licking and sucking. The forced calm in her voice spurs me on. The need to make her control break is extreme. I bury my tongue deep inside of her and the dam breaks. Clutching my head, she whimpers, jerking uncontrollably, pulling me deeper into her pulsating pussy.

The moment lingers, and then that moment is over.

Standing immediately, I adjust my erection in my pants, walk around the desk, pick up my jacket and open the door.

“Wait!”

Turning back, Lexi’s face is once again confused. Poor Lexi. She’ll learn. Eventually.

“Where are you going? We have paperwork to sign.” She says, looking more pissed than confused, and pulling at her hips to right her creased skirt.

“I know. I’ll send someone up to deal with it.”

She returns exasperated, “I thought you said you were the owner of the company!”

“I am.” Putting in a cufflink, I add, “Part-owner. Happy will be up to sign anything you need signed. I’ll call, Lexi.”

“Wait!” She shouts. “What’s your name?”

I know what she wants. And she’s not getting it. Not until I’m ready to give it. “Lexi, we’ve been through this already. I’m Twitch. Just…” I half smirk, “…Twitch.”

Turning and ignoring her plea to wait, I close the door behind me and nod to Happy, who waits in the hall. Happy knocks on the office door I just came from, and I don’t bother turning to see him walk in on the flustered mess that is Lexi.

I smirk to myself. That was fun. Straightening my tie, I silently chuckle. My tongue darts out, sliding along my bottom lip, tasting her.

We should do it again sometime.

Oh man, am I pissed or what?

Tapping my pen rapidly on the edge of my keyboard, I confirm what few details I have. “So, Mr. Ahmadi, I don’t quite understand. You own Falcon Plastics, along with Mr.—”

I wait for him to give Twitch’s last name to me, but even as I wait, I know he won’t give me an inch. This guy is not stupid. He knows the score. I mean, he knows Twitch. Enough said. His cool demeanor is intimidating. He isn’t being rude. Not in the slightest. He’s been quite the gentleman, actually, but his character is cool. Almost brooding. He responds businesslike, “Please, call him Twitch. He prefers it. And I would like if you called me Happy. Or if you prefer to keep things formal, then Farid. Please.”

Happy? A strange nickname. Especially for someone who doesn’t look…happy.

“Very well, Farid. I see I’m not going to get any information out of you about my surprise guest, am I?” The small twitch of his lips is my answer. Nodding in resignation, I bring out the paperwork needed for long-term sponsorship. Farid hands me all the company paperwork I need to photocopy; he signs the contact and within half hour, we’re done. And we are five-hundred-thousand dollars up in budget.

And I’m suddenly giddy again.

Farid stares me down through his thick narrowed brows as if he can’t figure me out. His almost-black eyes are lined with thick black lashes; if his name didn’t alert me to the fact he is of a Middle Eastern background, that would’ve been the thing to tip me off. His bald-shaved head shines under the fluorescent lighting above. Almost as tall as Twitch, but much larger in stature, I wonder if he’s Twitch’s muscle. And I can’t help it. My smile widens. He asks, “This means something to you, doesn’t it?”

Whoa. Loaded question.

Suddenly emotional, I blink as my eyes mist, and I whisper, “You have no idea.”

His brow furrows deeper a moment before he nods. Holding out his hand, I take it happily as he says genuinely, “I’m glad we could help out. I’m also glad to know the person who took our donation is someone who’s clearly passionate about her job and will make sure it gets used the way it was intended to be used.”

I’m so grateful for people like this man right here. He genuinely cares. Most people who care like he does have been through something of their own – something hard – so they know the value of charitable organizations. It’s just my guess, but I’d say Farid has experienced some hard times, as I’m sure Twitch has.

I respond, “Thank you. Thank you so much. You have no idea what this will mean. For some, it’ll mean a warm bed to sleep in, or heat during winter, or even a decent meal. We can educate with this money. We can train with this money. We can make a difference with this money. Thank you, Farid. It was lovely to meet you.”

I’m pleasantly surprised when he covers our shaking hands with his free hand and says, “I hope you’ll call me Happy. Please, call me Happy.”

I have no idea what I’ve done to make this cool man warm up to me so quickly, but it’s kind of awesome. Smiling stupidly, I nod once and repeat, “Happy.”

Releasing my hand, he reaches into his back pocket and hands me a business card. It has no name on it, just a number. Happy leans closer to me and whispers, “If you ever get into trouble again like you did the other week and Twitch isn’t around, you call that number and someone will come out.”

The hairs on the back of my neck stand.

I’m suddenly speechless. Happy is the person Twitch called to get rid of my problem. I feel the color drain out of my face, and Happy notices. Squeezing my forearm gently, he assures me, “We’re not all bad. Twitch is…well…he’s complicated.” I want to shout ‘you got that right!’ when he adds, “He’s not bad. He just...” Happy’s dark eyes meet mine as he says sincerely, “…he doesn’t know any better.”

And then he’s gone.

Leaning back to sit on the edge of my desk, I run a hand through my hair and think about everything that just happened.

Wow. What a crazy-assed morning.

What the fuck was up with that visit from Twitch? And more importantly, why did I give in to him so quickly?

Simple. You wanted his dirty mouth on you. More accurately, you wanted his filthy mouth to do nasty things to your body. 

Although I won’t deny my brain’s completely wrong observation, I most definitely won’t agree with it. Not now, not ever. Because Twitch is a weirdo who watches me. And for me to have intense feelings for a man who does that sort of thing…well…what would that say about me?

Allowing myself some quiet time to think does me no good. In fact, it makes me more and more angry at what transpired here not an hour ago.

Who does this man think he is? A freaking god? So what if he looks like a demi-god? He’s not the boss of me.

I have a mind to tell him just that.

And that’s exactly what I plan to do.

Sitting in my car next to the parking lot by Falcon Plastics, I look ahead into nothingness and bounce my leg rapidly in anxiousness.

I should’ve never come here.

A normal person would’ve gotten pissed, eaten an entire tub of ice cream when they arrived home from work, then gone to bed thinking of all the great comebacks that could’ve and should’ve been said at the time of the confrontation.

Steps one and three have already taken place, and I’m sure step two isn’t far behind either, but I’m sure a normal person would not have gone to the workplace of a potentially dangerous man to fight it out with him.

But me? I’m just special that way, I guess.

Chewing my gum almost as rapidly as my leg bounces, I almost shit my pants and shriek to high heaven when a loud knock comes from the outside of the car window.

Placing a hand on my heaving chest, eyes wide in fright, I turn to see familiar black eyes staring back at me. And those eyes...they’re smiling.

Opening my car door, Happy mutters an amused, “Boss is wondering when you’re gonna leave your car and get your ass inside.”

My cheeks flush pink. I snap back, “Maybe I wasn’t even here to see him.”

He grins, “You’ve been sitting in your car in an industrial area looking like an on-edge crack junkie wanting her next fix for about half hour. So either you’re here for drugs, or…”

He leaves his statement hanging, and right then, I hate him. Just a little. Feeling humiliated at being watched all this time, I roll my eyes, “Okay, so maybe I was wondering if what I was doing would be considered unprofessional.”

Happy’s face becomes serious as he states, “It is unprofessional.”

Unsure whether he’s serious or just very good at sarcasm, I swallow hard and open my mouth to defend my actions when he adds on yet another grin, “But Twitch started it.” The knot in my stomach loosens a little at his casual demeanour. Pulling the car door all the way out for me to exit, I take my handbag and watch in stunned disbelief as Happy reaches into my car, takes the keys out of the ignition, closes the door, and locks it.

Smiling, he extends an elbow to me, and after looking between him and my car for a solid minute, I take what is offered by placing my hand into the crook of his elbow. Happy leads me through the parking lot and into the office. I chance a look around. It looks like any other office. A neutral off-white colors the walls, as well as just about everything else in the office. Cubicles, desks, appliances, even the staff all seem to be keeping up with the neutral color theme. What I notice more than anything else, however, is the staff.

They are happy.

Smiles, laughter, and conversation swirl around us as Happy leads me towards to an elevator. Up to the second floor we go, and all the way down the long hall. As soon as we reach his office, I know it’s his. Of course, the pompous shadow of a man would make his things different to everything else in the building.

The door in front of me was designed to intimidate. And right now, it’s doing a pretty good job.

Thick, mahogany double doors hand-carved in a gothic theme brings shivers up my spine. Each door has an intricately carved weeping willow, which is blowing in the wind. Thin, leaved branches flow in all directions. Both willows are made to look the same, yet completely different in pattern and wind direction. It all looks so fluid. The person who made these doors is clearly talented. And I have no doubt that Twitch paid a huge amount for them.

Suddenly, I realize what I’m about to do is a big mistake. Turning to Happy, his eyes meet mine and his brow furrows. I whisper-hiss, “I’ve changed my mind. I’d like to leave now.”

Pulling at his elbow, he stands firm while watching me closely for a full ten seconds before he lifts his hand and raps his knuckles on the door.

Oh, what? I can’t believe he just did that!

Eyes wide, I look to him with a glare that would read have you lost your damn mind? His lazy stare says I don’t know what you’re talking about.

Closing my eyes tightly, I pray to a god I don’t believe in to give me strength, when I hear the most sexually arousing voice I have ever heard in my entire life call out, “Enter.”

My nipples tighten, so taut they actually hurt. I have this voice committed to memory. There are just some things in life that are worth remembering. This voice is one of those things.

Putting on my best poker face, I lift my nose in the air and look as if I’ve just sniffed something nasty. Happy chuckles by my side, and I want to kick him in the shin. Happy opens the door and guides me through it. My poker face falters slightly when I see a very petite, very gorgeous Asian woman perched at the end of Twitches penis-extension of a desk.

Okay, so the desk is also mahogany and huge, but calling it a penis-extension is rude. As well as false. I’ve seen the weapon he’s packing. The guy doesn’t need any sort of compensation.

Miss Asia looks up at Happy and me and doesn’t bother to hide her glower, which incidentally, is aimed at me. This pisses me off. With a swoosh of her perfectly straight, shoulder-length black hair, she moves to stand behind Twitch, and places a hand on his shoulder.

A claim, if you will.

Fuck a duck! The asshole has a girlfriend. Great! Just great. Which makes me that woman. The other woman.

Happy gently takes my hand from his elbow and pats it before lowering it to my side. Twitch, who hasn’t lifted his head from his paperwork, drawls into his reading material, “You following me?”

And my current emotional status of pissed upgrades to slightly fuming.

The words slip out of my mouth as if they’re buttered. “You follow me. I thought it was our thing.”

Miss Asia’s glower turns into a death glare, and I fight the urge to flip her off as her lip curls. Twitch’s lips curve at the corners; he lifts his head to watch me through those hooded eyes that I can’t stop thinking about and places the end of his pen in his mouth, chewing gently.

I wish that pen was my lip.

His scrutinizing gaze is enough to make me squirm, but I fight it with every last bit of willpower left in my body. Then, suddenly he announces, “Everyone out.”

Shit. This was a bad idea. This is actually happening. We’re going to hash it out.

Happy doesn’t waste any time questioning Twitch. He turns and leaves. Miss Asia, however, decides now is as good a time as any to have a stare off with me. Her brown almond-shaped eyes laser beam into mine. My gaze never waivers. I was a street kid for some time. I know intimidation tactics. They don’t do much to me coming from another woman. Coming from Twitch though…

My thoughts are cut short when Twitch stands slowly and turns to his girl. Not looking impressed, he growls, “Ling.” Her eyes hold mine only a second longer before she looks up at him. Her perfect red-stained lips match her perfect…everything.

I dislike this woman very muchly.

Twitch looks down at her in warning and her hard stare falters. “You hear me, bitch, or we need to get your ears tested?”

And just like that, I feel sorry for her. That’s no way to talk to your girl.

That’s no way to talk to any girl.

I fix my own glare at Twitch when Ling passes me much too closely. Her shoulder nudges mine, and although it doesn’t hurt, it annoys the shit out of me. Oh, and that sorry feeling I had? Gone.

Yeah. Walk away Skanks McGee.

The door closes harder than it should, and Twitch rounds his desk to sit on the front of it. “What are you doing here?”

Changing the subject, I state, “I don’t think your girlfriend likes me.” Putting on the most bored face I can muster, I add deadpan, “I’m torn up.”

Shaking his head at me, he mutters, “Yeah, I can see that.”

Question avoidance. Level: expert.

An awkward silence follows. A long awkward silence. And not making it the slightest bit easier on me, Twitch watches me from under his long lashes, his face devoid of expression.

The guy has had his dick in me. He has put his belt around my neck. I let him put his thumb in my virgin ass. He’s brought me to orgasm. More than once. And I don’t know a thing about him. Everything I thought I knew about him is wrong, or completely misunderstood.

Sighing deeply, he asks curtly, “You come to stare at me all day, or you gonna lay it out?” My face bunches at his blunt and rude demeanour. Eyes hardening, he all but barks, “Speak.”

And with that, I blurt out, “I don’t like what you’re doing to me.”

Crossing his long legs in front of him, he says completely uninterested, “No. You don’t like what you let me do to you.”

I ponder this. And when I realize he may possibly (definitely) be right, I ask weakly, “Why won’t you tell me your name?”

His response is a bored stare in my direction. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a pack of colorful chocolate buttons, pours a handful into his palm, and shoves the lot into his mouth. Chewing slowly, I watch his throat work as he swallows bit-by-bit of the melted sticky sweetness, and I press my thighs together, trying in vain to deny the fact that this man has a hold on me.

Finding courage from somewhere deep in my gut, I take a step forward and state with false bravado, “I don’t know who you are, but I’m going to find out…Twitch.”

His gorgeous face contorts in anger, eyes flashing. He stands abruptly and walks behind his desk to sit in the throne he calls a chair. Losing some steam, he picks up a document and skims over it. “Don’t go digging, Alexa. You’re bound to find a few bones.” I don’t know what to say to that, but my stomach clenches tightly. Still reading, he adds, “Keep this up and you’re going to get hurt.”

My spine stiffens. “Is that a threat?”

Lifting his head, his soft brown eyes harden. “It’s a fucking promise.”

My heart pounds in my chest. I need to get out of here. This was a very bad idea.

Swallowing hard, I breathe heavily and take a step back, retreating while I still have some pride left. Halfway to the door, he asks, “Do you have any plans this weekend?”

Stopping in my tracks, I shake my head. Pulling open a desk drawer, he pulls out a golden envelope, removes the card from the inside, and scribbles something onto it. Holding the card in his outstretched hand for me to take, I resist only a moment before curiosity gets the better of me. Once at his desk, I take the card and read in silence.

A masque. Charity function. Saturday night. Costume ball.

I know two people who would love this. Feeling uncomfortable, I ask quietly, “Can I bring someone?”

Twitch’s lip curls. “No date.”

Hmmm. Interesting. We’ll think on that later.

Shaking my head, I start, “No, my two best friends would—” But I’m cut off when leans across the desk, snatches the card from my hand, and scribbles another something on the front. Turning the card over, he pens something on the back and hands the card back to me.

Lowering his head to his paperwork, he dismisses me with, “Til Saturday, Alexa.”

Too stunned to even tell him goodbye, I walk out of his office, close the door behind me, and look down at the card in my hand.

Alexa Ballentine and guests.

A small smile graces my lips.

I have phone calls to make.