Page 8 of Only Me
“First, it isourclub. I own half.”
I roll my eyes because that’s a technicality and I’ll get him to sell his half of the business to me.
“Second…” Zeke surges forward, pressing my back against the wall again and wedging one big, beefy leg between my thighs. “You will not serve anyone but me. You will not take off your clothes for anyone but me. You need something. I will do it. I will provide it.” His chest puffs out like he takes pride in the thought of being the one to take care of me.
I refuse to admit that the same thought sends a thrill of excitement through me. I loved my uncles; they were good men who took care of me when I needed it most. But their love never felt like this. Like they had to do it to fulfill their purpose in life. And that is the exact vibe I’m getting from Zeke. A man I met, what, five hours ago?
Pride and deep seeded stubbornness won’t allow me to tell him any of that though. “Who do you think you are, caveman? I don’t know how they do it in the land of the Amish, but around here women are not put on this earth to serve men. And I amnotsome housewife wannabe looking to be taken care of. The women out on that floor trust me, they rely on me for money in their pockets and food on their tables. And to keep them safe. You don’t have the slightest clue what it takes to run this place. You should just sell to me, go back to cow country and find yourself a nice docile wife.”
Even as the words fall from my mouth, I want to take them back. The image of Zeke with some sweet young thing tucked under his big, strong arms burns in my brain turning my stomach sour. For a second, I have no clue what this new feeling is, but then it dawns on me that it’s jealousy. I have no right to be jealous of some hypothetical future wife of the near-stranger standing in front of me, but there it is. I’m jealous.
“I don’t want docile. I want fiery. I want stubborn. I want you, my Spitfire.” Zeke leans in, and I hold my breath. He runs his nose up along my neck, sending a shiver down my spine and a heavy weight settling deep in my pelvis. “I want you. And I think you want me too.”
One of his hands disappears from where it was propped against the wall and with it, he yanks my tight pencil skirt up to my hips. An outraged screech fills the room as I reach down to tug it back into place. But I’m also rubbing my thighs together looking for any way to relieve the ache forming between them.
Before I can so much as grip the hem of the skirt, Zeke sweeps both my wrists into his hands and pins them to the wall, quickly transferring them both into one wide palm. “Now I’ve not had much experience with women.” His free hand glides down between my breasts, down my belly, over the cinched-up fabric hugging my hips and waist. “But I’ve heard enough talk around the construction sites I worked on. Heard about how girls react when they see a man they like the look of, how their eyes dilate. How they subconsciously push their chest out. How you can smell the arousal rippling off them. How they get wet between the legs. I want to see if that’s all true. Because you, my Spitfire, are displaying every single one of those signs.”
My breaths get shorter until I’m practically panting with the need for him to touch me there. Dammit, I’m supposed to be convincing this guy to sell me his half of the club and leave. Not praying his hands will go just a little bit further south. “I’m shocked you have no experience with women, given the charm you’re displaying at the moment.” I try to hide my obvious arousal behind the snarky comment, but he must see through it because he only smiles.
But then he pauses. Just as his fingers graze the very top of my panties, he stops all progress south. “I want to find out if you’re wet between those thighs I couldn’t stop thinking about all afternoon. But I don’t like thinking I could be scaring you right now. Or that you don’t want this. So maybe I should just ask. Are you wet for me? Can I feel it?”
Now it’s my turn to freeze because I don’t want him to stop. Maybe it’s a game we’re playing. Maybe I’ll regret this in five minutes. I don’t know. But this is the most alive my body has ever felt, and I don’t want to lose it. I want him to keep going− to go further. “Find out for yourself,” I whisper.
A glint of surprise sparks in his eyes just before he does as I ask and delves his thick, long fingers into my cotton panties and slides them along my pussy lips.
With a thunk, his forehead hits the wall by my ear. As if what he’s found at the very core of me has taken his ability to stand on his own and needs the wall to prop him up.
“Good lord you’re soaked. Drenched.” He swirls a finger around my opening where a fresh wave of arousal meets his curious touch. “All this for me, Spitfire?”
“Yes.” I drop the attitude. He knows the truth now anyway.
Zeke presses his hips forward, so I feel the thick length of him press into my stomach. “This is all for you. I’ve been like this since the first moment I laid eyes on you.”
Taking me by surprise once again, Zeke falls to his knees before me, hooking one of my legs over his shoulder and just stares at my aching pussy. I should be embarrassed by how wet I am. But I’m not, I can’t be with the absolute adoration evident on his face.
He growls one word, “Mine.” Before swiping his stiff tongue up my slit, separating the lips puffy with arousal. He only gives my clit a glancing pass, but it’s enough to make my hips jerk forward. “You like that. I’ve never done this. I’m going to have to learn as I go.” He looks up at me, and his face is so serious, so determined, it causes me to melt a little more.
“No one’s ever done it to me, so we’ll learn together.”
Damn, the wide smile he gives me shatters all the indignation I’d been holding onto since he dragged me back here like a caveman hopped up on steroids.
Quickly following the demise of my indignation is the demise of every thought in my brain as Zeke spreads me open with his fingers.
