Chapter 8
Vivian
I’m screaming on the inside as he strolls toward the door with a cocky, vexating stride. I hate that guy!
I was just minding my business. Having a nice, ordinary morning. Making the wildberry coulis for the mini cheesecakes. And then he showed up out of nowhere. He marched right in here to annoy me. Oh and he's so good at that.
He’s the most pompous, arrogant, brash jerk I’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting. How dare he come into my place of business at the crack of dawn and offend me?
His dark eyes danced with laughter as he whispered words that provoked my traitorous body to roar with lust. Words that rang a little too close to the truth.
I lost my cool.
I grabbed the raspberries.
Before my good sense had the chance to catch up, the little overripe berries were soaring through the air.
By the time they’re exploding against the back of his white t-shirt, I'm already regretting my decision.
He freezes, the muscles in his back going tense as sticky, red ink absolutely ruins the fabric.
Oh crap oh crap oh crap!
I'm not even supposed to be here. I'm supposed to be tucked in my bed, warm and cozy and asleep. This is Reese's shift but she asked me to cover for her when she woke up sick again this morning. Now here I am. About to be murdered.
Clinton turns around at a slow pace, body vibrating. His chest rises and falls violently. The look in his eyes is dark. Like a wildcat ready to pounce.
Maybe I can fix this. I quickly flip through the list of fail-proof natural stain removers catalogued in my brain.
Baking soda?
Lime juice?
Vinegar, maybe?
Oh crap!
I round the counter with my hands out in front of me. I have the perfectly-crafted apology all sorted out in my head but when I open my mouth, nothing comes out. I'm obviously in a state of shock. I still can't believe I just did that.
My brain launches into panic mode. Shit! Apology! Spit it out, right now...Or kick him in the testicles and run! But the fire in his eyes has me paralyzed. I can’t speak. I can’t run. I can’t breathe.
I can only wait the interminable moment until he’s charging across the floor, lifting me up, pinning my back to the wall and those full lips are crushing mine.
Huh?
I think he's kissing me. Rough and demanding, sucking on my lips before stabbing his tongue into my mouth.
Why is he kissing me?
And why are my hands circling around his waist, hooking into the belt loops of his worn denim jeans?
Why are his fingers in my hair, pulling on my roots and sending unfamiliar sensations down my spine?
Hatred and lust commingle in my blood, causing a dizzying gust of confusion to wash over me. I've never been the kind of girl who enjoys rough stuff. I like a man who knows how to respect a woman and her body, in and out of the bedroom. But right now, I have the urge to get rather dishonorable with this particular man.
Now, his hands are under my butt, feeling me up, groping me shamelessly. His mouth travels down my neck. His tongue sweeps across my flesh. He peels off my cardigan and bites my breast through the fabric of my dress. The sensation spreads throughout my body.
I feel a gush of wetness soak my panties when he reaches behind my back and unties the string of my halter dress before pushing down the cups of my strapless bra. My breasts are on display for him and he dives in, licking and squeezing them boorishly. Meanwhile, I lose my fingers in his hair, throw my head back against the wall and reciprocate each hard thrust of his denim-clad erection against my core. Wait—don’t I hate this guy?
He slides his hands up my dress and under the lace of my panties. He squeezes my butt. My insides clench and I bracket his narrow hips with my thighs. When he tears his mouth away from mine, I'm panting.
"You're fucking annoying," he growls. "Do you realize you're driving me crazy?” His fingernails dig into my meaty flesh, spreading my butt cheeks apart and causing my core to throb. “You're so pretty it almost pisses me off.”
There's a ferocious look in his eyes and if I weren’t so inexplicably turned on right now, I'd probably have the good sense to be scared. Instead, I'm tangling my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. "Kiss me again."
His mouth covers mine, wet and greedy. Frustration, lust, annoyance, pleasure. It all mixes together in the space where our lips meet. "I'm gonna do much more than just kiss you, Sunflower. Are you okay with that?"
Arousal sweeps through me like a monsoon. I close my eyes and let go of all control. "Do it."
His fingers ride over my clit and brush through the crack of my butt. His hands are drenched in my desire and he hisses through his teeth. I shudder against his touch. He spins me off of the wall and practically throws me onto the counter between the cash register and the cakepop display case. There’s a wicked sparkle in his eyes as he unzips his pants and sets his long, thick erection free.
“I’m so hard it hurts,” he murmurs under his breath as he strokes the shaft roughly. I purr. I can’t stop myself from reaching out and running my fingers over the smooth, wet tip.
Even in the dim room, I can see how beautiful it is. A beautiful penis. Who knew? I'm dying to see the rest of his body. “Take off your shirt…” I whisper hoarsely as I prop myself up on my elbows to watch him.
He does it with the cockiest smile I’ve ever seen. He tosses the shirt aside then yanks my panties down my legs and grips my thighs to spread them open. My dress is bunched up at my waist. Ironing it was a pain last night but right now, I don't care. I just want his sex. Now.
Without thinking, I reach for his erection and stab it into my throbbing tunnel.
All the air in the room evaporates.
We’re both frozen at the thrill of the penetration. Raw. Skin-on-skin. Connection.
With a long groan, he buries his face in the curve of my neck. He grabs my waist and yanks my pelvis forward. His eyes are shut. He moves blindly. He pumps his shaft into me, hard and fast. Again and again.
"It's so good," I hear myself saying. "It feel so good."
He pants against my skin. "You like that? Huh? You like the way my cock stretches that tight little pussy?"
Oh my god. I've never been talked to like that. A part of my wants to slap him across the face. The other part of me wants to explode in the most violent orgasm of my life. I'm erratic in my quest to climax.
I grab his face in both hands and kiss him savagely, attacking him with greedy little bites and licks and thrusts of my tongue. As he spears me with his thick, pulsing cock, the sharp edge of the counter etches a deep horizontal groove into the fleshy globes of my butt. And I can't figure out why I'm pulling him closer, locking my thighs tighter around his hips, grunting like a zoo animal while sweat trickles down my temple. My carefully arranged and pinned chignon falls apart one damp tendril at a time.
The electrical current coursing through my body is too much. The charged sensation of our tongues dancing roughly combined with the explosive friction of his shaft tunneling through my wet heat, I feel the danger of it in my bones. We're building toward something nuclear and I don't know if I'll survive the fallout. All I know is that right here, right now, I can't hold back. I can't control the erratic pumping of my hips. I can't quiet the screams sputtering out of my throat. I can't resist the orgasm that's ripping my walls downs. All I can do is abandon myself to the pleasure and the man who's providing it selflessly.
My orgasm seems to draw on for an eternity but it's still not long enough. And then, Clinton yanks his shaft out of me with a hasty tug. I feel it pulsing against my thigh as he empties himself on the door of the cabinet beneath the cash register.
His knees go weak and he braces the edge of the counter, his sweaty forehead dropped against my shoulder. He breathes hotly on my skin as he regains his wits.
Meanwhile, my mind is short-circuiting. What the hell was that? A guilty, little voice at the back of my mind chides me. I know exactly what that was. That was unquestionably a hate-f*ck. And I don’t want to admit it to myself but it was the hottest sex I’ve ever had.