AVA

 

I can’t remember being this furious with a man before, but I know that anger is not the root of my problems. Not really. The root of my problems is his stupid, smug face while he let Kayley grind on him, the way he’d watched me with lidded eyes, brushing his stubble over Kayley’s tattooed skin as though taunting me for my own clean-cut appearance.

It was like in the courtroom, when I knew his eyes were on me the whole time, only this time the feeling is not pleasant.

Kayley texted me while I was still out in the foyer.

 

Kayley: He’s going to use me to make you jealous. Should I tell him to fuck off?

 

I read the text twice before replying.

 

Me: Make sure he pays in cash. And charge the fucker double.

 

I’m not some little flower who wilts when her man takes an interest in someone else. I run this club.

This is my domain. And it’s about time I reminded him of that.

Christopher looks amused when I shove him inside the backroom. He seems to think I’m about to yell at him, or something. He probably thinks he’ll be able to talk me down with a kiss, before guiding me to the dimly-lit corner of the room where the king sized bed is sprawled out.

When the door closes behind me, he’s already turning to speak to me with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. I grab him by the collar and shove him into the doorway.

“Problem?” he asks. The wind is knocked out of his body, making him sound breathless, and he makes a deliberate attempt to reel his self-control back in.

“Kayley’s a personal friend of mine,” I tell him, pressing myself into his space and forcing him to crane his neck and look down on me. “That was your first mistake. She won’t touch you unless I ask her to.”

He purses his lips, his amusement hanging from his eyes by a thread. “This is a gentlemen’s club, isn’t it? Am I not allowed to sample the wares?”

“This is my gentlemen’s club,” I tell him sternly. “You want to sample so badly? Sit down.” I point at the bed.

The smirk is back, but there’s something else behind his eyes. A fire that tells me he’s happy where this is going. When he pushes himself away from the door, I find myself annoyed and impatient with his slow progress. I slap his ass as he walks past me and jumps at the suddenness of it. Then I reach around and grab his belt buckle, undoing it in one deft movement before tossing it aside. He turns to look at me with wide, surprised eyes.

“Those can come off first.”

He undoes the button and zipper of his pants under my stern gaze. His hands are calm and sure, but there’s a flicker of nerves in his gaze. I don’t blame him for that. He’s never seen me like this. Writhing and begging, yes, but giving orders? Maybe he never thought I could be like this. As if my behavior in the courtroom weren’t enough to warn him that this might be coming if he ever pissed me off.

But that’s what he gets for coming into my house and hitting on my friends right in front of me.

He sits on the bed, resting his hands behind himself and trying to look nonchalant. His muscular thighs are stretched out and slightly spread so I can see the beginnings of his bulge through his black boxers.

“You just going to stand there?” he asks.

I tilt my head. “If I want to.”

But I don’t want to. I want to be on him. I just want to leave him sitting there for a moment longer so he knows who has the power in this house, before striding forward and hiking my skirt up so I can straddle him. His hands reach out to drape over my waist but I smack them away.

Then I slide over, dipping down and turning so there’s enough room to put my legs on either side of his hips and drag my warm, stocking-covered crotch over his erection. It eases the ache a little and I realize just how turned on I am. Christopher tilts his head back and I lean over to nip at the skin on his neck with my teeth before slowly licking up.

His pupils are dilated and with the light behind him they look black. I reach up, tangle my fingers into his hair, and pull him into a bruising kiss.

It feels like more than a kiss. With my blood still singing with jealousy and my hips already making short, sharp, powerful movements against his, this isn’t close to just a kiss. It’s a consumption.

I grapple with him, pressing myself completely into his body in a way that should have hurt, that would have hurt if I weren’t so determined to play through it. His shirt buttons press uncomfortably against my sternum, my petite breasts providing hardly any cushioning. I want to claim him and make him mine. I want to scratch my name into his chest so every time he takes his shirt off he remembers who he belongs to.

Christopher grabs my hips and I allow it. He pulls me close, his fingers gripping, and I pull him until our teeth grind together and I can’t tell whose tongue is whose. I’m grinding down, hard, on his erection, enjoying the undulating pressure on my clit and the way his breath is coming shorter.

He reaches up to try and take off my stockings, I slap his hand away and he grunts.

“Can’t fuck you like this,” he says.

“What makes you think you’re fucking me in this scenario?” I ask. “I could come just like this. I have half a mind to.”

I can feel the heat building up, coiling down like a spring, like a snake about to strike. I talk a good game, but this is the first time I’ve ever even attempted to be so domineering in the bedroom. It makes me feel light-headed and triumphant all at once.

I tilt my hips so my clit drags along his length and enjoy his hiss. Rubbing myself on his covered cock, I ride him, and I know he can feel and smell my arousal as the air becomes thick with our gasps and moans. Even on my wildest nights, I’ve never made myself come with friction alone.

He moans and begins tilting his hips to match me thrust for thrust, his fingers digging into my skin.

A sexy groan escapes his throat between clenched teeth. “You’re going to kill me, Ava,” Christopher growls.

I lean down to bite, hard, on his neck. Hearing him gasp throws me over the edge of orgasm until I’m writhing and groaning on top of him, grinding down on his thickening bulge, drawing out my own pleasure while his breath hitches in his chest.

“Seriously?” he asks. He sounds awed.

“Seriously,” I mutter into his throat.

My body is still thrusting and grinding with the last waves of my orgasm, but I’m already seeking the next. And this one will happen with Christopher inside of me. His muscles twitch when I dig my teeth into him.

Christopher scoops me up and throws me onto the mattress. I realize he plans to be on top for this next part, so I pull away and shove him off.

“Strip,” I order.

His pupils appear darker, if such a thing were possible. He reaches for his shirt buttons.

“Faster,” I say. I didn’t know that my voice could be so low and husky.

Immediately doing as he’s told, his designer shirt falls into a crumpled heap on the floor. After he drops his boxers his erection is proudly on display between his legs, and I take a moment to admire his hard and leaking cock, licking my lips to show him my approval.

“Lay down,” I tell him, pointing to the bed beside me.

Christopher looks like he plans to answer, but then he decides against it. He chuckles instead, as though this is amusing, although the way his cock twitches shows he’s enjoying this side of me as much as I am. He lays down on the bed and reaches for me, but I roll out of his reach and kneel up to remove my dress, achingly slowly, enjoying the way his eyes follow the collar of it as it falls off of my breasts and exposes me to him.

“Condoms in the drawer behind you,” I say, nodding to the bedside table. “Put one on. Mr Cole.

Christopher takes a moment to really admire me before rolling over to comply. I wonder if this is how he feels all the time–in the courtroom, in the office, in daily life. To make a comment or give a command and then watch as people scramble to obey. Is this how it will feel when I’m made partner some day?

I like it.

He pulls the condom on. Then, without a word of warning, I throw my leg over him and take him in painfully slow, watching him groan through his teeth.

I grind my hips down, burying him in my heat, feeling the gorgeous stretch as the angle allows me to leverage him into the deepest parts of myself. Christopher presses his forehead to my shoulder. It does nothing to muffle his moan.

Bracing my hands on his shoulders and my legs on the mattress, I push myself up and impale myself on him. Christopher gasps, his eyes fluttering shut as he throws his head back, and I think I could get used to looking down on him like this.

Riding him hard, I keep going, hurling myself against him, taking his cock harshly and grinding my clit against his pelvic bone while abusing my G-spot with his thick length. I can’t get quite the right angle at first, so I arch my back, grinding down, and right there it is, there’s the angle and I’m coming again. The high then sudden fall of the second orgasm draws a shattering moan from my lips.

Christopher is quivering with need beneath me and it takes a moment for me to realize that I’ve stopped riding him. I feel him grip my hips and push me up, then back down, hard and fast, and I allow it because I’m too wrecked to try and pull a power play right now. All I want is to feel him quiver beneath me, enjoying himself as much as I am. When I feel his lower belly clench, I know he’s coming too. I dip down to draw him into a kiss so he can taste me at the height of his pleasure.

Finally, he stops fucking me. My well-fucked pussy is hot and still quivering, but when he falls back onto the mattress I keep our hips connected, unwilling to allow him to leave me just yet. I rest my head on his chest and realize I’m panting and that he is too, and we’re both covered in sweat.

I can’t understand what’s gotten into me, but I just have this sudden and awful need to be as close as possible, so I kiss him like I’m going to die if I don’t. It could be the flush of endorphins still coursing through me, or the fact that I’m feeling filled in a way I never thought I would. The feeling of Christopher pulsating inside of me, filling the condom, is overwhelming my senses.

He takes his hands off my hips and I wince knowing there’s probably bruises there, before running them up and down my sides and back while he kisses me. He seems to like my sides and back. Christopher brushes his hand over a bundle of nerves on my back and I tremble.

“That was… really something, baby,” he mutters into my mouth.

I pull away just enough so I can toss my hair aside and keep kissing him. He wraps his arms around me and returns the kiss, almost languidly. After what feels like days, but is probably only a few minutes, I stop.

“Are you satisfied, Mr Cole?” I ask. “Is there anything else I can do to make your stay here at Fever more enjoyable?”

He gives me a long, sheepish smile. “No, Miss Rose, I am completely satisfied.”

“More satisfied than you would have been with Kayley?” I ask, and I hate the tiny quiver of uncertainty in my voice when I say it, even though I’m going for a sterner tone.

He raises an eyebrow, still running his hands over me. “Who?” he asks.

Draping myself over him, I kiss him again and feel his softening length still buried deep inside of me. “Good answer.”