Page 19 of Crave Me

It’s only a beat before Dallas regains his control, letting loose on Liam. The power behind each punch is magnified incomparison. He’s feral, his eyes laser-focused. He forces Liam back against the ropes, his hands held up, blocking each punch, his knee coming up to cover his ribs. After what feels like an eternity, Liam shoves Dallas hard, causing him to stumble back.

“The fuck is wrong with you, Dal?” Liam shouts.

“They’re fine. Dallas is just being an asshole.” Reid’s voice reminds me that we’re in public and that I’m not having a normal reaction to watching them fight. I school my features, straightening my spine and putting my composure firmly back in place.

“Of course. They’ve got this. It’s just wild to watch. I don’t know what I was expecting but it surely wasn’t this.”

The brothers share some words that only they can hear for a few moments, hug, and both climb out of the ring, covered in sweat and blood. Reid walks away from me to talk to Liam as Dallas steps into my space.

“Enjoy the show, princess?”

“Ehh. Your brothers sure know how to fight.”

His eyes narrow, his head tilting to the side as he studies me with a cocky, shit-eating grin. He’s reading me like a book.

“You seem a little flustered. Feeling okay?” I want to smack that knowing smirk off his smug face but as his eyes trail over my body, heat flames my face again.

“Nothing I can’t take care of by myself at home.” His eyes widen, his face transforming to unadulterated hunger. I smile sweetly before turning and walking away. I don’t stop until I’m safely in my car and can finally catch my breath.

What is he doing to me?

Once I’m back alone in my apartment I’m still sexually charged. I go about my nighttime routine, washing my face, tying my wild wavy hair up in a silk scrunchie at the top of my head, and pulling my futon down flat. I climb into bed and pullthe blankets over me, thoughts of Dallas’ sweaty body working hard while in the ring repeating in my mind.

My fingers trail aimlessly up and down my stomach, circling my soft belly, and between my breasts. Warmth pools between my legs, my core clenching, a deep ache in my lower abdomen. It’s been so long since I’ve been with anyone. It’s hard for me to let all my walls down in order to enjoy sex, so it isn’t something that happens often. Or at all.

My fingers drift down, over my panties, and run along the length of my seam. My hips nearly jolt off the bed. I’m so sensitive, so swollen and needy. Knowing that I need to release this primal pressure within me, I shimmy out of my panties, tossing them to the foot of the bed. My hands cup my large breasts, massaging, pinching, and twisting my nipples, sending shock waves down to my clit. I know that with enough time I could come from this alone.

My eyes close and I let myself go to fantasyland. I’m not surprised when Dallas appears. His sexy, muscular body, sweaty and glistening from his fight. Adrenaline coursing through him with nowhere to go. I slip my fingers easily through my slick center, dipping a finger into my core and pumping a few times before dragging them back up to circle my clit. I imagine it’s Dallas’ tongue instead of my fingers, his mouth feasting on me like I’m his favorite meal and he’ll never get enough. My fingers move back down, slipping two inside, wetness coating them, and my palm rubs firmly on my clit while I fuck myself with my fingers. I imagine Dallas between my legs, licking me into oblivion, my hips grinding on his face, his facial hair rubbing my sensitive skin raw. It’s euphoric. I chase my orgasm, my hips moving in sync with my hand.

“Yes. Yes. Fuuuuck. Dallas!”

I come completely undone, coming to thoughts of my asshole boss’ tongue between my legs.

The rest of the week passes in a blur, and I spend most of my time avoiding Dallas. The tension between us climbed too high at the gym, and after masturbating to the fantasy of him eating me out, I didn’t want to face him, even if I did feel him everywhere I went, and he fucked with me in various ways.

Every day something annoying happened and I know it was him. On Monday, all of the glasses that are usually in the bar for my tastings went missing. On Tuesday, I was double-booked for a tasting and a tour, and on Wednesday during a meeting, Dallas congratulated me on hosting an all-day event scheduled for Thursday for the retirement center’s weekly day trip. Not surprisingly, that event hadn’t been on my schedule until I checked after he brought it up. The worst part was that although every single thing irritated me, the fact that he was spending time trying to get under my skin just made me think of him more.

By the time Friday rolled around, I was exhausted. Walking into my office, I do a double take around the room. Everything has been rearranged. The desk, which was perfectly positioned in front of the large window, is now at the back of the room facing an empty wall with the back of my chair to the door. My shelf has been moved to the front of the window, blocking all of the natural light and the view of the mountains. My plants are missing completely, and instead of the photos I had hung of various famous wedding dresses in magazines, my walls are lined with empty frames.

I’m going to kill him.

Throwing my coat and purse onto my desk, I march down the hallway to his office, pushing right into it without knocking, not giving a damn what could be going on behind the door. Unfortunately, it’s empty. My eyes roam the room as I contemplate how to cut him where it hurts when they land on his precious office chair.

I move quickly, wheeling the chair out of his office and down to the storage closet. Pushing it to the far back behind the shelves, I pull as many boxes down as I can to stack on top of it and keep it covered before closing the door and returning to my office.

“WHERE IS SHE?”

Dallas’ voice echoes through the expanse of our office suite. I laugh lightly under my breath. She. Of course he’d give a female pronoun to an inanimate object whose only purpose is to serve him and keep him comfortable. Asshole. He barges into my office, smoke practically steaming from his ears.

“What did you do with her?”

“I don’t know who you’re referring to. Be more specific, Mr. Hayes.”

“My chair. Gloria. Tell me where she is, Blaire.”

“Do you like my new office layout? I gotta say, not having natural light really makes me appreciate the fluorescents. And having my back to the door? Brilliant, right?”

“Blaire . . .”

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