Page 25 of Keep Me

“Thank you.” I look at him, but he keeps his eyes straight ahead and sniffs, the bridge of his nose pinching. It feels like he’s refusing to look at me, but why would he? I didn’t do anything wrong. If anything, I’ve been better behaved tonight than any other he’s spent with me.

No hidden serranos or spilled drinks. No pretending to date his brother or opening doors before him. It chafes being iced out for no reason. And then it stings double that I’m bothered by it. I didn’t want him here to begin with. I wrap my arms around my middle tighter and walk faster.

He doesn’t look at me until we get into the elevator at my building. And when he does, I wish he hadn’t. He leans against the handrail opposite me, wraps both hands around it, and tilts his head to burn me with his stare. He lazily drags his gaze down my legs then slowly back up, pausing for a breath on my bare strip of midriff. His face is an unreadable impasse except for the strong clench of his jaw.

The elevator dings on my floor and the doors slide open, but he doesn’t move, just hangs his chin. His icy-gray irises flash darkly up at me. He’s feet away, but I feel physically pinned. I shake off his invisible hold and exit first, not stopping or looking back until I reach my door.

I stop in front of my door, fishing around my purse for my key, fully ready to screw his ridiculous door rule and hide in my room until morning. A hand slams on the door by my head, and I feel him close in behind me. I stand as still as a statue while his other hand slips a key into the lock. His masculine scent swims around me, and my skin feels too tight when his breath flutters against my neck. He surrounds me fully, overwhelming my senses and yet still isn’t touching me.

The hallway feels painfully quiet as he turns the lock, the sound of metal moving almost blaring. But instead of opening the door, his fist tightens around the knob and I hear him swallow deeply before his jacket is being gently tugged from my shoulders. I let it fall with a shuddering breath.

I feel him shuffle closer, but still not touching me, his body like a whisper against my back. A gasp is trapped in my throat when he hangs his head, leaning forward to rest his forehead on the door above me. I dare a glance up at him and see his eyes are screwed shut, tight, harsh breaths coming in and out of his nostrils. He finally twists the knob and lets the door swing open, but we remain frozen like stone, his face hovering just above and next to mine.

The light above the stove is the only thing casting a streak of dim light into the dark apartment in front of us. Something about the darkness is so appealing, a sweet siren begging us to disappear into it, promising that what happens in the shadows doesn’t exist in the light.

I’m seconds from spinning around when a strained and ragged whisper demands, “Get inside, Cortez.” I find myself unconsciously rolling my head to the side, opening up my neck for his words, his breath…his touch. My heart hangs between beats, expecting him to take the offer. Instead he growls, in both a threat and plea, “Don’t make a liar of me.”

1. Wait for Me—Maya Isacowitz

Chapter 13

Finneas Fox, the Berry Farmer

Reggie

I toss and turn in bed for what feels like hours. My heart is still beating irregularly, and my stomach drops every time I think about the way Roan’s desperate words raked against my skin. 1 I was so ready to break my own self-imposed rule. So ready to know if he tastes as smoky and intangible as the storm in his eyes. Does he kiss like he wants to savor every moment or does he bite and fight for every second? Would he kiss at all? Or would he flip me over and muffle any cries of pain or pleasure—not caring which—into the mattress as he took and took and took—

And fuck, now I’m taking out my vibrator from my nightstand. Roan should be fast asleep on the couch by now. Hastily, I turn it on and shove it under my blankets. I slide two fingers up and down my slit, gathering up my wetness. I dig my teeth into my bottom lip as the slickness coats my clit, already swollen and hot. As I exchange my fingers for the vibrating head of the wand, my eyes flash through my dark room to the hazy outline of my locked door.

My stomach clenches and hips buck at the first buzzing touch. My eyes close, and I begin to imagine what it might be like if, like he claimed, a locked door couldn’t keep him out. Maybe I'd wake to the sound of metal scraping as he picks the lock and the creaky hinge on my door gave away his presence. Maybe I pretend I’m asleep to see how far he’ll take this game. Or maybe I don’t wake up at all. Not until a rough hand clamps down over my mouth…

I can imagine the soft hush he’d give me, the hiss of his breath as he held a finger up to his lips. Shhh. He’d tell me to be good and to stay quiet and maybe he wouldn’t make it hurt…much. My toes curl as I circle the vibrator teasingly around my clit but never directly on it. I pretend it’s him, grinding his hips into the cradle of mine. His cock would be hard and demanding, pushing against his jeans, but he wouldn’t rush to lose them. No, he’d take his time to make me realize just how completely powerless I am. Prying my knees open with his strong legs. Pinning my wrists above my head. Caressing the column of my throat then squeezing just a little too hard to be comfortable.

Would he laugh when he slipped a curious finger into my panties to find me soaking? Twisted little slut…My legs shudder as I imagine his voice purring all the ways I’m going to let him ruin me.

Dizzying tension wraps itself around my core, and I choke in air as my pussy throbs and flutters with each pass over. God, I’m not going to last long. Especially when my imaginary Roan begins to undo his belt, the clang of metal reminiscent of the first day he had me equally powerless below him in the kitchen. And just like then, though I didn’t want to admit it, my pulse jumps—eager, scared, excited.

On all fours, he orders me as he removes his pants with tedium. I do as he says, but it doesn’t stop him from taking his belt and wrapping it around my neck and cinching. I scramble onto my knees, hands clawing at the tight leather, panic and heat flooding my veins. He laughs darkly, then I feel the cold kiss of a sharp blade tracing down my spine. I lower myself onto the mattress, trying to curl away from the knife traveling down my back.

He gives the belt a tug, yanking my head back so he can whisper into my ear, You going to be good for me now? It’s not a polite request or even a question. Not when he’s pressing my head further into the pillows, mocking any illusion of choice.

Desire gnaws at me as I imagine him yanking my hips into the air, delivering a merciless slap to my ass. I whimper out loud as if it’s more than just a figment of my imagination, the pressure and tension building and building and—Goddammit!

With a frustrated growl, I throw the vibrator that just died on me to my bedroom floor. I huff and flop back onto my mattress, my whole body wound so fucking tight that think I might burst and float away. But in the new-found quiet without the mechanical buzzing, something else cuts through the silence…

I tense, convinced I am hearing things in my horny delusion. But then I hear it again: the punch of a masculine moan. I swallow heavily, heat flooding to my cheeks as I squint at the small crack at the bottom of my door. The faint light from the neighboring building is just enough to reveal the unmistakable silhouette of feet standing right outside my door. I clamp a hand over my mouth as if that will somehow change everything Roan has just overheard. My heart beats wildly in my chest at being caught, but then evens out to a devilish determined tempo as I listen to him straining to conceal the sounds of his grunts.

A storm of butterflies lights up my stomach as I slide my hand back between my legs. If I listen really closely, I can hear him fisting his cock, and I begin rubbing myself to the same rhythm. And this time when a whiny moan crawls up my throat I let it out, my thighs clenching as I do.

“Fuuh…” I hear bitten out from the other side of the door and the rugged, untethered texture of it makes my insides squirm and I circle my clit faster, harder.

Breathless, I pant in sync with his moans which are growing harsher and more desperate with each stroke. Liquid heat pools in my lower belly, and I am becoming so sensitive that even the lightest brush of my fingertips has my heels digging into the mattress as I fight back my building climax.

“Oh god,” I keen, and my back arches off the bed as I thrust my fingers hungrily into my wet pussy, the beginning rolls of my orgasm cresting.

“God—fuck—shit—” Roan’s rough fricatives become a chant, and I let every cry spill uninhibited from my lips. I rise and crash on a tidal wave of pleasure as we come at the same time.

My heart is like a hummingbird caged in my chest as my dancing fingers stop and the last waves roll through me. I lie sighing and sated, a satisfying sheen of sweat on my forehead and heat radiating on my cheeks.

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