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William

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

“What you want is to be in charge of deciding when you’ve had your fill of me, but I’ll never let you be the only one to say it’s over. I don’t have much relationship experience, but I pay attention, William. At the first sign you can’t keep giving me what I want, I’ll leave.”

“And what do you want?”

“To keep feeling like this. See how my heart’s racing? You did that. The moment I’m able to be by your side without feeling this way, I’ll know we’ve reached the end.”

The words she spoke at my house—which, coming from any other partner, would have been a relief—felt more like a dark omen, an unwanted prediction that our time together would end sooner rather than later.

Rationally, there’s no reason for me to believe that, because although Taylor has already made it clear she’s nothing like the women I’ve been with—insisting she set some terms for our involvement too—compared to me, she’s still very young. Courageous, determined, but far too young.

Even so, the way she started guarding herself from me, barely after we’d finished coming down from our last high, raised a red flag in my mind that maybe this time I’d have to bend my rules if I wanted more of her.

I don’t accept ultimatums, and rather than finding a middle ground that would work for both of us, I worked on seducing her—body and soul—to make sure I’d have enough of her to satisfy all my desires for as long as I wanted.

For the rest of the weekend, there were no more deep talks—just immersion in each other’s bodies. With the same drive that got me to the top of my profession, I threw myself into figuring out everything she likes, what gives her the most pleasure, and which spots, when touched, make her melt for me.

After a little over forty-eight hours, it was like we’d known each other for years, physically speaking. But aside from a handful of stray comments about her past with her father, I have no clue what’s going on in her head.

Every second of my day today was consumed by thoughts of her. Memories of that gorgeous, naked redhead in my bed were enough to give me erections, but recalling the girl asleep in my arms, in my sheets, broke all my rules and made me hunt her down.

I didn’t call, didn’t text. We hadn’t made any plans for today or any other day. I just assumed that as long as I wanted her, she’d be mine.

I walked into the rundown bar where she works, certain I’d find her, sure the rest of the night would go as I pleased—Taylor, once again naked and moaning for me.

Then I asked one of the waiters where she was and found out she’d been fired but that someone had spotted her just minutes ago on the street, talking to some “big shot.” By way of proof, he showed me a photo of her in what looked like a rather intimate moment with my father, who was holding her hand.

I’ve always thought of myself as a cold man, never letting emotions take over. But that instant, I felt a homicidal urge flare up toward that miserable bastard who has no respect for women, regardless of whether they could practically be his granddaughters.

It’s not the first time my father’s gone after a woman so young, but it’s the first time he’s gone after my woman.

Yes, there’s not an ounce of logic in that statement, but all I know is that until we’re done, Taylor is mine.

I showed up at her place like a madman. Didn’t even try her phone. I wanted to see her face when I told her I knew she’d been meeting my father behind my back. Sure, there was a chance she wouldn’t be there, but I couldn’t believe Taylor would actually go out with him after spending the last few days in my bed.

I came determined to get the truth. I wanted to look into her eyes as I asked what the hell he was doing coming after her. But the moment I saw her, reason slipped away. All I could see was the woman who’d moaned my name, the one I’d kept trapped in my arms these last two nights.

I saw those lips—no one will convince me they aren’t mine—begging to be kissed, and then, as always happens when we’re inches apart, logic gave way to hunger. Passion outstripped anger and jealousy, shoved to the sidelines by lust.

“How’d you know I was already home?”

“I went to pick you up at the bar.”

She opens and closes her mouth, but instead of asking why I came looking for her when we hadn’t planned anything, she steps inside her apartment without a backward glance, as though she’s certain I’ll follow—which, of course, she’s right about.

The sense that I’m losing control over who I am drives me to my limits; Taylor barely shuts the door before I pin her against it and kiss her.

When it comes to this woman, conversation is dangerous. I don’t want to complicate matters; I’d rather focus on what I can handle: the insane lust she stirs in me.

When I capture her mouth, kissing her like a soldier back from war who hasn’t seen his lover in years, she not only accepts but welcomes my madness.

I tug up her dress, and her panties crumble in my fingers as I rip them like tissue. I lift her in my arms, forcing her to lock her thighs around my waist.

“Hold on to me.” I wait for her arms to circle my neck, then open my pants, whip a condom from my wallet with record speed, and roll it onto my cock.

I touch her pussy and groan with need when I find her soaking from my surprise attack.

“I have to fuck you hard, but I don’t want to hurt you. Tell me if it hurts?”

“You’d never hurt me,” she says, repeating the phrase she used the first time I had her.

“Not on purpose, no.”

“Never?”

“Your body, never.”

“What else, then?”

I pause, teasing her entrance a few times with my tip before plunging into her molten heat. “I’ve been honest with you from the start. I expect the same,” I say, as though that’s a complete explanation.

Anger flares again, but I don’t want to think about that bastard right now. I lose myself in her body, focused only on our pleasure. She yields entirely, showing me with every thrust that our connection was no illusion. It’s real.

Taylor is my most delicious fantasy. I’ve never felt such desire for a woman. She doesn’t speak; she just lets me take her, kissing and biting my neck, tearing off some buttons from my shirt.

That she gives herself without demanding anything should be a relief, but it only adds to my confusion. She takes just as much from me as I demand from her, devouring me with the same hunger with which I fuck her. The sex is rough, intense; our bodies don’t want gentleness—they want satiation.

When climax hits, savage and simultaneous, I keep her clutched to me, my face buried in her neck.

“I expect the same,” I repeat.

“What?”

I lower her slowly, and after adjusting her dress, I close my pants. I don’t back off an inch; I stand there gazing at her, pressed to the door, eyes still bright from her orgasm, cheeks flushed, lips swollen from my kisses. “I’ve played fair with you. I expect the same.”

“What are you talking about?”

I pull out my phone from my suit jacket and show her the pictures I snapped of the waiter’s screen. And just like the first time, anger surges back when I see my father touching her.

She stares at the photos in silence for a few seconds before lifting her gaze to meet mine. “What does this mean?” she finally asks.

“You tell me. I wasn’t there—you were.”

It only takes her a few seconds to grasp what I’m implying; when she does, I see her flawless face shift from shock to anger, yet she still won’t speak. Jealousy slams into me with full force.

“Is that why you quit your job?” I ask, since she keeps refusing to talk.

“Why I what? I didn’t quit. I got fired. Now I want you out of my apartment.”

“Not before you explain what happened.”

“I don’t owe you any explanation. Our arrangement is only about sex.”

“Sex with exclusivity.”

She places both hands on my chest and pushes. “Go away, William.”

“Tell me it’s not what it looks like.”

She opens the door, waiting for me to leave. “Never.”

“Never what?”

“I’m never going to defend myself. Think whatever you want about me. I told you at your place—maybe I’ll be the first to get tired of whatever we have.”

“Nice try, but I’m not a kid, Taylor. You literally just came all over my cock, screaming my name. You’re far from sick of what I do for you.”

“Maybe I’ve decided we’ve reached our limit. Maybe I want more than sex with a man.” She tries to slam the door in my face, but before it closes, she says, “And maybe you’re not the one who can give me that.”

I know she’s fiery and she can also bring out the worst in me. Taylor didn’t mean those words, just as I didn’t. The moment the door slams, I ring the bell. She ignores me the first time, and also the next two tries. I decide we both need to cool off.

I’ll come back tomorrow, and we’ll talk.

My life is arranged in compartments, but Taylor has seeped into all of them, occupying every space, so if I can’t control that, I need to redefine her role in my world.

I regret even suggesting what I did. Taylor wouldn’t have allowed my father near her after spending the weekend at my place. I grab my phone and type:

I’m sorry. I was an idiot. I’ll be back tomorrow. Have dinner with me and I promise I’ll fix this.

What I don’t realize is that tomorrow will never come.