Chapter Twenty-One
Liam
I'm working at my desk at home, Hemingway asleep on his bed in the corner, when the house intercom buzzes. I set down the offer sheets for a few new properties I'm looking at acquiring and look at the intercom. I'd asked to not be disturbed as I'm working on putting together a deal – one I know I should probably talk to Paige about, but one that also makes me nervous to mention.
I sigh and punch the button on the intercom.
“Yes?”
“Mr. Anderson,” Janice says. “Ms. Samuels is here to see you.”
I look at the intercom for a moment, surprised. I wasn't expecting Paige to come by. I'd thought about going down into town and stopping by her shop, but it had just been a thought. I honestly wasn't sure if she wanted to see me or not, given that she hadn't contacted me after what happened between us.
“Mr. Anderson?”
Janice's voice snaps me out of my reverie. “Yes, sorry,” I say. “Please, send her in.”
“Yes, sir.”
I lean back in my seat and wait. A few moments later, I hear Janice's sharp, almost military-esque footfalls and the softer sounds of Paige's footsteps coming down the hallway. Hemingway looks up, suddenly interested in our visitors.
Janice opens the door and holds it for Paige, who steps inside and gives my house manager a shy smile.
“Thank you,” she says to Janice.
“Pleasure to see you again, ma'am,” Janice says.
Janice steps out and closes the door behind her. Hemingway is off his bed in an instant, bounding over to Paige, his tongue flopping out of his mouth, his entire body wagging. Paige indulges him, kneeling down and scratching him behind the ears.
“I don't even get that kind of a greeting from him,” I say. “Clearly, you're the preferred flavor of the month.”
She looks at me and I see the color blossom in her cheeks. It's only then that I realize there are other ways that comment could be interpreted. I give her a small smile, letting her choose whichever interpretation she prefers.
She's wearing a pale blue dress that falls to her knees and a white cardigan sweater and has her hair held back with a white headband, letting her dark locks spill down over her shoulders. Paige looks like the living embodiment of the girl-next-door chic. It's very appealing. Very sexy. And as I sit there, watching her, I feel my cock begin to stiffen.
“Not that I mind you stopping by – in fact, you're welcome anytime, Paige,” I start. “But what brings you by?”
She gives Hemingway one last scratch and stands up. My boy looks at her with a pout, wanting the attention to go on forever. I take a couple of treats out of the jar on my desk and toss them toward his bed. He gets the hint and walks over, dropping back down on to his bed with a loud sigh. He nibbles on his treats, making it more than clear that he'd prefer Paige's hands on him.
Me too, buddy, I think to myself. Me too.
She walks over and takes a seat in the chair across the desk from me. I watch with interest as she crosses her long, shapely legs. And I can't help but recall the feel of the soft skin of those thighs pressed against my face. Paige catches me looking and tugs the hem of her dress down a bit, the color in her cheeks deepening.
She clears her throat. “I actually came by because I needed to talk to you about something.”
Judging by the look on her face, I don't suspect it's a conversation I'm going to particularly enjoy. She looks serious. Perhaps even grim. Given this is the first contact we've had since that day, I have a feeling it's about our tryst in the bookstore. And if I was a betting man, judging by her serious demeanor, I’d say she’s here to tell me that it can't happen again.
Yeah, I'm going to have to change her mind about that.
“Sure,” I say. “What's up?”
She fidgets with her hands in her lap and looks away, her expression changing to one of uncertainty. She seems to be wavering. Maybe, she's still on the fence about things between us. And maybe, I won't have to do all that much convincing, after all.
Paige finally looks up at me and opens her mouth to speak – only to be interrupted by a knock on my office door. She quickly looks back down at her hands and nibbles on her lower lip.
“Come in,” I call.
The door opens and Janice steps through. “Sir, I've asked Daniel to take me down into town to pick up some things for the house,” she says. “I hope that's okay.”
“That's fine,” I say.
“Is there anything in particular you need me to pick up, sir?”
I shift uncomfortably in my seat and clear my throat. “Yes, actually,” I say. “Can you pick up – the stuff? I'm just about out.”
Paige looks up and arches her eyebrow at me, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. It's silly and it's stupid. There really is no reason for me to hesitate to tell Janice what I would like her to pick up. Except for the fact that Paige is sitting there and for some reason, I don't want her to know what “the stuff” consists of.
I know it seems bizarre, but for some reason, it feels like we’d be entering a level of intimacy I don’t think I’m ready for.
“The thing, sir?” Janice asks.
“Yes, you know,” I say. “The stuff.”
“The stuff?”
I give Janice a long, level look. And I can see by the small grin she's trying to suppress that she knows exactly what I'm talking about, but is choosing to rake me over the coals in front of Paige. I arch my eyebrow at her and give her a menacing look – which only seems to make it more difficult for her to suppress her smile. Paige, in the meantime, is watching the exchange with keen interest.
“Yes,” I say. “The stuff.”
“Oh, right. Rocky Road ice cream and a package of Double-Stuf Oreos. I'll be sure to pick it up for you,” she says. “We'll be gone a few hours, please call if you require anything else.”
I hang my head as Janice turns and leaves my office, closing the door behind her. Not that I can't still hear her laughter echoing down the hallway. She often comes across as dry and humorless, but Janice has a wicked sense of humor and a razor-sharp wit. She often makes me laugh with her subtle digs and commentary. She's a lot like Alice in that way.
I'm not used to her turning those things on me. And why she chose to do it in front of Paige is something I'm going to have to talk to her about. When I look up, she's staring at me, the same sort of amused grin upon her lips that had been on Janice's. I can tell that she's trying to hold in her laughter.
“Rocky Road ice cream and Oreos, huh?” she asks after a long, awkward moment.
I shrug and try to play it off. “Sure,” I say. “Like everybody else on this planet, I enjoy a little sweet treat in the evenings. No big deal.”
“No, of course not,” she says. “I'm just surprised, that's all.”
“Surprised?” I ask. “That I enjoy ice cream?”
“No, not that,” she replies, her smile widening. “I just figured you would enjoy something a little more decadent and exotic. You know, something a little more refined and sophisticated. I see rich people in the movies always eating these bizarre desserts, so I just figured –”
“There you go stereotyping again, Paige,” I say. “That's not a good look for you.”
She shrugs. “I just never figured a big, strong, Captain of Industry-type like yourself would have the same cravings as your average five-year-old,” she says, the laughter erupting from her. “I never figured a wealthy, powerful CEO like you would enjoy something so simple and ordinary.”
“There's nothing wrong with enjoying a little simplicity in one's life,” I say.
This time, it's my cheeks that color. I feel the heat rushing to my face and know that I'm blushing. Although, I can take a joke, so I smile along with her. Like I said, it's a silly, stupid thing to keep secret, but for some reason, it's a secret that I wanted to keep. Mostly for fear of looking like an idiot and of something like this happening – being mocked.
“No, simplicity is a good thing,” she says. “I agree.”
“Oh, good,” I say. “I'm so glad to hear that.”
She narrows her eyes, her grin turning a little mischievous. “Do you watch cartoons while you enjoy your ice cream and cookies?”
“Ha-ha,” I say. “You're a funny girl. And yeah, maybe. So, what if I do?”
“Do you wear footie pajamas too?”
I smile and shake my head. “If they made them in my size, I just might.”
“Now, that is something I'd pay good money to see,” she says.
“Yeah, you'll never have enough money for that,” I say. “Not even if you win the lottery a dozen times straight.”
We share a laugh and a lot of the awkward tension that had saturated the air before dissipates. Her face and body seem to relax, and she looks more like she's there to have a pleasant talk and less like she's about to tell me I have cancer and just six months to live.
“How about some coffee?” I ask.
“That'd be great.”
We both stand, and I lead her out of the office, turning back for a moment to tell Hemingway to stay put. He, of course, lays his head down and pouts.
Paige follows me into the kitchen and whistles low. “Wow,” she says. “This is a really nice kitchen.”
It’s not like I do a lot of cooking, but I do dabble every now and then. It's a large space, all done in dark wood and tile. The appliances are sleek and modern. There's a long granite island in the center that has a deep sink and lots of counter space and drawers.
I shrug. “It's a kitchen.”
Paige runs her fingertips along the backs of the barstools that line one side of the island. I step over to the counter and pour us both a mug of coffee. I hand one to her and point to where Janice keeps the cream and sugar.
“It's gorgeous,” she says as she fixes her coffee.
“The realtor told me it's great for entertaining,” I say. “Not that I'd know.”
She smiles and looks away from me, busying herself time by checking out some of the features in the kitchen.
“You know,” she says, “people in town talk about you.”
I shrug. “Let them,” I say. “I don't care.”
“They even have a nickname for you,” she says. “But, it's one that doesn't really seem to fit.”
“Oh?” I ask. “And what's my nickname?”
She looks at me and bites her bottom lip, suddenly looking like she just got caught speaking out of turn and regrets saying anything at all.
“If you're worried about hurting my feelings, don't be,” I say. “I don't have feelings. And I couldn't care less what people think or say about me.”
“Because you're a big, bad CEO-type and everybody's beneath you?” she asks, a note of challenge in her voice.
I laugh softly. “You really have a hard-on for CEO-types, don't you?” I ask. “Or is it just a grudge against the wealthy in general?”
I see color in her cheeks again and she looks away. “I guess after dealing with people in your industry all these years, and having them try to bully me for so long, I've become a bit – jaded.”
“A bit?”
She rolls her eyes, a wry smile touching her lips. “Fine, a lot.”
I nod. “I can't say I blame you,” I say. “Some people in my industry can be right pricks.”
She nods eagerly. “Yes, they can.”
“To answer your question though, I don't care what people think about me because, in my business, you have to have thick skin. You have to develop an armor around you,” I say. “People are always throwing stones, trying to knock you down. You have to learn what is important and what's not. Choose which battles are worth fighting and which hills are worth dying on.”
“Is that what's help you get through this mess with your ex?”
I nod. “Exactly,” I say. “It hurts, don't get me wrong. But, having a tough outer shell has helped me cope.”
“That and Oreos and ice cream, huh?”
I laugh. “Exactly,” I say. “So, see? If Brittany isn't getting under my skin, a silly little nickname from people in town isn't going to bother me.”
“You're stronger than I am,” she says. “You're wrong though. You do have feelings. You're just better at hiding them than most.
I shrug. “Debatable. On all counts,” I say. “So, come on, what's the nickname? And why doesn't it make sense?”
“They call you Gatsby,” she says. “Because you're rich, live up on a hill, and are totally reclusive.”
“But, Gatsby was known for throwing elaborate parties to woo Daisy,” I say. “He was always around people.”
“Exactly,” she says. “That's why it makes no sense.”
“People just don't read anymore.”
She shakes her head. “No,” she says. “No, they don't. If I were going to pick a better nickname for you, it would probably be –”
“Boo Radley from To Kill a Mockingbird?”
“That's exactly what I was going to say,” she says.
We both laugh and stare into each other's eyes for a long moment. And as we do, out of absolutely nowhere, a sense of anticipation fills the air between us. My eyes slide up and down her body and the memories of what happened in the bookstore fill my brain. The echo of her moaning, the scent, and taste of her, fills my senses. I feel my cock stiffening. She's a powerfully sexy woman, but my attraction to her is much more than just her physical looks. She's captured my imagination in ways I didn't think possible.
And at that moment, every nerve ending in my body feels like it's on fire. I have to have her.
I set my mug down on the counter and walk over to where she's standing. She looks up at me with wide eyes as I loom over her. I hear her breath catch in her throat and she nervously nibbles on her lower lip. I take her coffee mug out of her hand and set it down on the counter behind her.
“W – what are you doing?” she asks, her voice a breathy whisper.
I don't say anything though. I simply lean down and press my lips to hers. Paige's body stiffens, and she doesn't react at first, but when I slip my tongue into her mouth, I feel the light resistance within her begin to dim. As our tongues swirl and dance together, I feel her resolve begin to weaken.
Sliding my hands around her waist, I press my body against hers, pinning her up against the island. Paige's hands are on my chest and she's clenching my shirt as our kiss deepens and intensifies. I run the tip of my tongue along her neck and give the lobe of her ear a gentle nip, drawing a soft breath from her.
She pulls at my shirt and I raise my arms, letting her take it off me. Paige drops the shirt onto the floor beside us and presses her lips to my skin, dotting my chest with her kisses. A moment later, she stops and looks up at me.
“Liam, we shou–”
I cut her off with another kiss, this one even more passionate than the last. Her body begins to respond to mine and she drags her nails up and down my back. I press myself against her, letting her feel just how hard my cock is for her. Letting her know how badly I want her.
She pulls her face back, her eyes wide. “We can't,” she says. “I need to talk to you about something.”
“Later,” I say and lean forward, kissing her again.
I slide my hands down and run them back up her thighs, slipping them under her skirt. She gasps as I touch her through her panties, reveling in feeling how hot and wet she is already.
“Liam –”
With one deft movement, I slip her panties to the side and slip two fingers into her warm, wet little pussy. Paige's head rolls back and she moans as I begin working my fingers in and out. She's so slick already that my fingers move with ease.
I press her back further against the island behind her, banging my fingers into her harder. Her eyes flutter and her breathing becomes more ragged. I feel her body trembling and tensing, feel her pussy gently contracting around my fingers. Grabbing her hand, I place it on my stiff cock. She resists at first, but when she feels my hard rod beneath her hand, she greedily grabs it, rubbing it through my jeans.
“Tell me you want this, Paige.”
“I – I want this,” she gasps.
I slide my fingers out of her pussy and she looks at me, begging me to continue with her eyes. I slip my fingers into my mouth, relishing the taste of her juices. Her eyes are wide, and she watches me lick my fingers clean. With a salacious smile, I drop to my knees in front of her. Her scent and the taste of her are intoxicating and I need more. I push her skirt up and lift one of her legs, laying it on my shoulder.
She's staring at me with wide eyes and I feel her grab my hair, pulling it, pushing my head forward. I know she wants this. Wants my mouth on her. My tongue inside of her. So, I oblige. Leaning forward, I bury my face in her hot little opening, licking and sucking on her clit. She draws in a sharp breath when I slide two fingers back into her while I continue nibbling on her clit.
“Jesus, Liam,” she gasps. “Yes, baby.”
She's pushing my head with one hand, pulling my hair with the other while I work her pussy over with my mouth and fingers. I'm banging her in a hard, steady rhythm as I take her clit into my mouth, sucking hard on it. Her moans echo through the kitchen and I feel her grinding herself against my mouth, urging me on.
Slipping my other hand under her skirt, I cup and squeeze her ass, pulling her harder against my mouth. I drive my fingers into her hard one last time and I feel her entire body stiffen. She lets out a loud cry as she begins to tremble and shake.
“Fuck, Liam,” she stutters, her voice shaking as much as her body.
I feel her pussy contracting around my fingers and she grinds herself harder against my mouth as her orgasm tears through her. A few moments later, she lowers her leg off my shoulder and I get to my feet. There's a stricken look on her face, and she looks a little unsteady on her feet, but also a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
“That was amazing,” she says.
“On your knees,” I say, my voice low and commanding.
Without a moment's hesitation, she falls to her knees before me, her eyes still locked on mine. Paige slides her hand up my leg, gripping and rubbing my cock through my pants.
“Tell me what you want,” I say.
“I – I want your cock,” she replies, gripping me hard through my pants. “I want your cock in my mouth.”
“Mmm,” I say. “I want that too, Paige. Pull out my cock and suck it.”
She quickly undoes my belt and unzips my pants. She slides both my pants and boxers down my legs and I step out and kick them to the side. I'm standing before her, completely naked, and her gaze is fixed on my cock. Slowly, almost reverently, she reaches out and takes my cock in her hand, wrapping her delicate fingers around the base and squeezing tight.
She looks up at me as she grips my hard shaft and I see the lust burning in her eyes. Paige runs her hand up and down my stiff rod, stroking it.
“I want it in your mouth, Paige.”
Never taking her eyes off mine, she leans forward, running the tip of her tongue around the head of my cock. I draw in a breath as she slips the head of my dick between her lips, swirling her tongue around it while she continues jerking me off with her hand.
She works my cock with her hand and mouth, slowly at first, but slowly starts moving faster. With more purpose. It's not long before she's sucking my cock good and hard, sliding her mouth and hand up and down in a hard, steady rhythm. I lean forward, bracing myself against the island with my hands, sensations like electrical bolts shooting through my body. I moan loudly and can't stop myself from rocking my hips, driving my dick further into her mouth.
Paige is really getting into it now, working her mouth and hand in time with absolute vigor. She sucks and jerks me, and I feel my body tremble. I feel my balls tighten and know that if I don't stop her soon, I'm going to blow my load in her mouth.
I don't want this to end too soon. I want her. All of her. And I'm going to fucking have her this time.
Taking a step back, I look down at Paige, my vision wavering and my knees feeling a little weak. She looks up at me, the expression on her face one of almost disappointment that I didn't let her finish me off.
“Stand up,” I say.
She gets to her feet without a word. And I have to admit, I'm loving the fact that she obeys my commands without hesitation.
“Bend over the island.”
Her eyes grow a little wider and I can see a mixture of fear and fascination in them. I see the desire clear as day. But, I can also see the questions springing up in her mind – like, should she really be doing this?
“Bend over the island, Paige.”
Her eyes narrow slightly, and a sultry grin touches her lips. Clearly, the desire inside of her won that internal debate. She looks over her shoulder at me as she bends over the island, giving me a little wiggle to beckon me forth. Reaching down, I pick up my pants and quickly dig out my wallet. Pulling a condom out, I drop both pants and wallet back to the ground and tear open the package. I never take my eyes off hers as I roll the condom down my thick, throbbing rod.
“Tell me you want this,” I say.
“I want this, Liam.”
“Tell me what you want, Paige.”
“I want your cock inside of me,” she whispers. “I want you to fuck me. I need you to fuck me.”
I step forward and reach out, grabbing a handful of her hair. I give it a hard yank, pulling her head back as I slam my cock into her little wet, waiting pussy. The moment I penetrate her, Paige's body stiffens and she cries out. She's tight but so fucking wet that my cock slides inside of her with ease.
I start to rock my hips, driving my dick into her hard and fast. I loosen my hold on her hair and Paige lays down flat, her forehead pressed to the counter as I fuck her from behind. She pushes back against me, taking me deeper into her. The sound of her moans and cries fill the room in a loud, steady chorus, punctuated by the echo of my flesh slapping against hers.
“Fuck, Liam,” she moans. “Fuck, yes. You feel so amazing.”
I throw my head back, a low growl coming from my throat. She's so tight and so warm and as I drive my cock into her again and again, I feel like my body is on fire. Waves of sensation roll through me and I feel my balls tightening again. Paige feels too good and I know I'm not going to be able to last that much longer.
As I drive myself deeper into her, I feel Paige's body tightening up beneath me. She's writhing on the counter, pushing herself back against me. Her breathing is growing ragged and her cries are growing louder and louder with each thrust of my cock.
The pressure in me gets to the tipping point and as I thrust my cock deep into her one last time, I hold it there, pushing myself as deep inside of her as I can go. A second later, I can feel myself erupting within her. I feel my cock pulsing and throbbing as I blow my load into the condom inside of her.
Feeling my unloading seed pushes Paige over the edge and her body starts shaking hard as she comes. She cries out, calling my name, and I feel her pussy clenching and unclenching around my cock as her second orgasm milks every last drop of cum from me.
We stay in that position, Paige bent over the counter, me standing behind her, still sheathed within her, riding out the waves of orgasm washing over us. I finally feel my cock deflating, and take a step back, pulling myself out of her. I quickly strip the condom off and throw it into the trash can before turning and pulling Paige into a tight embrace.
She looks up at me, her eyes wide, her smile even wider. “That was incredible.”
“Yes, you were,” I say and kiss the tip of her nose.
I hold Paige in my arms for a long moment, just gazing down into those dark, bottomless, soulful eyes. A quiver of fear runs through me though. What am I getting myself into? Am I ready for this?
A million questions are firing through my mind and I have answers to none of them. I push them all out and focus on the only thing I do know – that I enjoy what Paige and I just did a lot. But I enjoy having her in my arms just as much.
It's a thought that comes out of the blue and one that scares me – and yet, one that doesn't feel wrong.
Which probably should scare me even more.