“Right. That’s why you need to come with me.” I touch her again, tracing the bodice of her dress, my finger dipping low, lower, almost touching her breasts. She goes completely still and I lift my gaze to hers. “I won’t take up too much of your time.” I don’t bother hiding my snide tone. I’m frustrated and I don’t care who knows it, least of all Violet.
The surge of triumph that flows through me at the disappointed look flashing across her face shouldn’t matter, though it does. The small confirmation that she wants me like I want her fuels me.
And I need it.
Without a word, I take her hand and lead her out of the cavernous room, my fingers laced with hers. She follows behind me silently as I pull her through the crowd, noting Lawrence as we pass by him. He looks fucking furious and I feel victorious. If he only knew what I have planned for his ex-girlfriend …
“Ryder,” Violet protests when I push open the double doors leading to the lobby of the building. I ignore her, glancing first left, then right, where I spot a door that leads to I-don’t-know-where.
I decide to check it out and see where it takes us.
“What are you doing?” she asks. I can hear the fear and irritation in her voice. Again, I ignore her, and I test the door handle to find it unlocked. I peer inside to find a supply closet and I tug Violet in after me, shutting the door so we’re shrouded in complete darkness.
I can’t see her, but I can feel her. Smell her. I press her back against the door, rubbing against her since there’s not much room. She grips my shoulders at the same moment I grab her head with both hands to keep her still. “What do you think I’m doing?” I murmur just before I kiss her.
She sags against the door, sags against me, and I let one of my hands fall to her side, squeezing her hip with firm fingers. A little moan sounds from her, vibrates through me, and I deepen the kiss, my tongue sweeping her mouth, searching, circling hers. The dress she’s wearing is sexy as fuck, giving me easy access. I tug aside the front of it, pushing one wide strap off her shoulder and baring her breast.
It’s so damn dark and I wish I could see her, but I can’t. Her lush flesh fills my palm and I tease her nipple with my index finger, circling it again and again, feeling the bit of flesh tighten further with my attention. “You want me. Don’t deny it,” I murmur, and she doesn’t protest.
She whispers my name against my lips as I pull away from her, bending over her chest so I can draw her nipple into my mouth. I feel frantic, on edge, the need to touch her, please her, completely taking over me. I savor the taste of her sweet, hard flesh, sucking deep. I slip my hand beneath the other side of her dress, my fingers covering her breast. I pinch her nipple, twist it the slightest bit so she cries out, and I want to laugh. Want to shout in triumph because I know this girl … this prim, perfect girl, likes it when I’m a little rough.
And the poor thing has no idea what I’m capable of.
I skim my hand down her side, along the dip of her waist, the gentle curve of her hip. The fabric of her dress is smooth and soft, almost as soft as her skin, and my fingers get lost in the folds of her skirt before I shove my hand beneath it. I lift the fabric up to skim my hand along the outside of her thigh and bare hip, finding that she’s not wearing any panties, just like I asked her.
“Fuck,” I choke out as I caress her hip bone, then slide my hand down. Farther …
“I did as you asked,” she murmurs as she shifts beneath my hand, spreading her legs.
Giving me better access.
So I take it. I cup her between her thighs, feel the heat of her scald my palm. She thrusts against my hand as I draw it up, teasing the very seam of her with my index finger, dipping in and lightly caressing her hot, wet folds. She’s on fire for me, her moans growing louder with my every touch, and I kiss her to shut her up, loving how noisy she is. Dying to get her alone so she can be as loud as she wants for me and no one can hear us.
She lifts her leg and wraps it around my hip, opening herself up to me even more. I break our kiss and thrust my finger deep inside her pussy, fuck her with one finger, then two, and she’s grinding against my hand, murmuring nonsensical words. I wish I could see her, stare into those pretty eyes, watch her face as I make her come apart.
Hell. I feel like I could come apart. With her like this, I feel as if I could spiral out of control at any moment. All I want is her. All I can think about is fucking her. Making her mine. Owning her.
Jesus. I need to get a grip.
She’s clutching at me, her hands having slid to my chest, fingers grasping at my shirt. The girl seems hell-bent on ruining my clothes. I can feel her nails scratching against my skin, the desperate seeking of her orgasm obvious. She’s close. So damn close, and I just need to push her over that edge.
I decide to toy with her instead.
“You want me to stop?” My fingers still within her body and she gasps, her breaths coming fast, the sound harsh in the otherwise quiet of the closet.
“N-no.” She reaches for my face, her fingers tentative on my jaw before they find my cheek, and then her lips are seeking mine. I let her take over, my fingers still inside her pussy as she kisses me desperately, her tongue licking, her hips moving against my hand as I slowly start to push my finger inside her welcoming heat once more. “Please,” she whispers, her voice shaky. “I need it.”
“You need it or do you need me?” I ask, my voice harsh as I still my fingers again. A whimper escapes her as she rolls her hips just as I withdraw my hand from her body and reach up, touching her lips. “Tell me, Violet.”
Her hot breath bathes my damp fingers as she parts her lips and starts to speak haltingly. “I-I need you.”
“Open your mouth. Taste yourself,” I tell her and she does, sucking my fingers, her lips tight, her tongue swirling. My cock is rock hard, knowing I have sweet little Violet Fowler licking at my fingers after I had them buried inside her.
She’s sexy as hell. After all the talk I’ve heard about her being an ice queen, uptight, a horrible lay, I’m thinking they were wrong.
Or she was just with the wrong man, which doesn’t surprise me.
“Say my name, Violet,” I urge her as I withdraw my fingers from her mouth.
“Ryder,” she whispers.
“Ask me to make you come,” I demand.
“Make me come,” she says breathlessly. “Please?”
Hearing her say my name, making her beg, and not being able to see her heightens the vulnerability, the need in her trembling voice. I touch her, slide my fingers back inside her body and brush my thumb against her clit, her sharp gasp urging me on, making me touch her there again. And again. “You like that?”
“Yes,” she moans as I press my lips against her throat and kiss her there. Lick and nip at her sensitive skin while I plunge my fingers deep inside her pussy, circling her clit with my thumb over and over. “Feels so good.”
Pleasure rushes through me and I lift my head, brushing my lips against hers. “You’re close, aren’t you?” I can feel the way her body tenses against mine, her hand gripping my shoulder tight. Her clit swells against my thumb and I press it, my fingers buried deep as I devour her mouth with my own.
She falls apart within seconds, a little cry sounding from her that I swallow as I feel her inner walls contract around my fingers. Her entire body shakes as I slow my thrusts, my thumb still tight against her clit until she finally sags against me completely, overcome by her orgasm.
I press a kiss to her forehead, ignoring the wave of tenderness that I feel for her. I just made her come with my fingers in a dark closet while a party is happening in the room next to us. This isn’t a moment for tender, sweet feelings.
This is straight fucking around and making Violet Fowler addicted to me.
“That was …” She releases a shuddery breath. “Oh my God.”
Her praise isn’t necessary. It’s making me uncomfortable and I’m thankful for the darkness so I can hide from it. What the fuck did we just
do? It’s like I see her and all I want to do is tear her clothes off. My thoughts are consumed with her. I don’t even remember why I’m pursuing her in the first place beyond my wanting her. There’s another purpose, work-related, I know. But hell.
I can’t worry about that. All I can think about is Violet. The taste of her, the sounds she makes, kissing her, touching her, being with her …
“If we had more time I’d make you suck my cock.” My voice is harsh, but I don’t care. I have to remember there’s no place for emotion here. None.
A shuddery gasp escapes her but she doesn’t say anything else.
Withdrawing my hand from her body, I push her skirt back into place as best I can, considering I still can’t really see. “But you need to get back out to your party.”
“You … you’re not going to join me?” She sounds sad and I almost fall for it.
Almost.
“You have your sister. And Lawrence is out there too, begging you to come back to him.” The words sound bitter and hell, I feel bitter saying them.
I need distance so I can gather my jumbled thoughts. I never wanted to give her any power. That was never part of my plan. I was going to own her, and I believe I’m almost there.
But I never counted on her trying to own me.
“I don’t want Zachary.” I want you. The unsaid words linger between us, heavy and foreboding, and suddenly I’m dying to get away from her. I haven’t even fucked her properly yet beyond with my fingers and my mouth, and she’s already twisting herself around me. Invading my thoughts at the oddest times. Making me seek her out when normally I’d be focused on something else. Anything else but Violet.
“You should go back out there.” Unable to help it, I grab hold of her shoulders and lean in, dropping a chaste kiss on her forehead. She stills, I hear her breath leave her in a shaky exhale, and I immediately feel like an asshole.
“I want to see you again,” she murmurs, her voice so low I almost don’t hear her.
“Why?” My callousness knows no bounds. Pilar would be proud of me. Yet all I can feel is shame.
Shame at giving this woman so much pleasure and then treating her like shit, all in the space of about five minutes.
Violet remains quiet for so long I could almost believe she’d left. I start to say something but she moves just as I’m about to speak, wrenching the closet door open with a sharp turn of the handle, allowing a stream of light to hit us both. My gaze falls on her and my heart aches with how beautiful she looks. Everything perfect but her lipstick, which is completely gone thanks to me. Her mouth is swollen, her gaze full of hurt. Hurt I put there.
Pain I’m responsible for.
“I asked for this,” she says quietly, perfectly composed as usual. “But maybe I’m not prepared for it.”
I meet her gaze steadily, ignoring the panic that threatens me. Is she trying to end it already? Is this somehow my fault? And why do I even care?
“Are you saying you don’t want to … pursue this any longer?” I ask, my voice cold. Hard.
“I don’t know if I can,” she admits.
“Then maybe you shouldn’t,” I say steadily, my thoughts anything but. What the hell am I doing? I don’t want to end this.
But here I am, screwing it up.
She lifts her chin, defiance written all over her. I expect her to argue, to tell me to fuck off, but she doesn’t say a word.
Violet slips out of the closet and walks away, never turning to look at me once.
I guess I deserve that.
Sticking my head out, I see the coast is clear and I exit the closet, shutting the door quietly behind me. I start toward where the party is being held, planning to check in real quick before I leave for the night, when I hear a throat clearing behind me.
And I turn to find Zachary Lawrence, the pompous asshole himself, standing there as if he was waiting for me.
“What the fuck do you want?” I ask, my tone ugly, my body tensing for a fight. Memories come back at me, one after another. I flash back to when I was a teenager and got jumped by punks that lived in my neighborhood, always looking for money, whatever I had that they could sell to score drugs. When I got older, I became the one who dealt drugs and they quit trying to beat the shit out of me—they bought from me instead.
Dad was gone. Mom didn’t exist. I was on my own at fifteen. I’ve dealt with plenty of drug-addicted assholes in my life who were full of adrenaline and knew how to fight. I could take on Lawrence, no problem.
“Leave Violet alone,” he says through clenched teeth.
“She doesn’t belong to you.” I stride toward him, ready to shove my fist into his smug face, but I restrain myself.
“Yes. She does. I don’t care what you two are doing—she’s still mine.” The heavy emphasis on the word mine makes me see red. But I refuse to lose my cool in front of this man. My enemy.
“Right. That’s why she came all over my fingers not even five minutes ago,” I say, feeling like a shit for taking it so low, but damn it. Just looking at him pisses me off.
His gaze narrows and his jaw tightens. Good. He should be pissed. I want him pissed. “She was in the closet with you.” It’s not a question.
I consider letting him smell my fingers, the ones still faintly sticky with Violet’s come, but I don’t. Instead I clutch them into a fist and bring it to my mouth, breathing deep. I can smell her, remember the way she came so easily just moments before. “Yeah. And I got her off, which is more than she can say about you.”
His eyes flare with anger. Good. I’m ready to goad him some more. “You’re just using her.”
“And you weren’t?”
Lawrence clenches his hands into fists, as if he wants to drive one of them into my face. I stand my ground, never backing down, wishing he would try and touch me. I’d beat the shit out of him.
And I think he knows it.
“She wouldn’t slum with a piece of shit like you,” he practically spits out.
“Oh yeah? I’ll remember that the next time I go down on her in my office.” I smile when he growls.
“I could make your life a living hell, you know,” he says, sounding smug. “One call to Forrest Fowler and I can have you fired.”
“Go for it,” I say, hoping he hears the warning in my voice. “You don’t scare me.”
“I should. You’re nothing but an ass who fucks to get ahead.”
“Says the pot to the kettle. What were you doing with Violet all this time? Fucking around on the side while pretending to be the perfect boyfriend. Staying on her good side so you could get this promotion to London.” I laugh, but there’s no amusement in it. “If anyone fucks to get ahead, it’s you.”
“I earned that promotion fair and square,” he breathes.
“Don’t think you fully earned it yet.” I step so close to him my face is in his. I’m taller than him by an inch or two and I’m glad. I want this jackass to know I won’t back down from him. No matter what.
“What? You think you can step in, get in Violet’s panties, and then you’ll have my job?” Lawrence laughs. “We’ll see about that.”
“Right. We will see.” Now I remember why I’m using Violet. My greatest goal is to take everything this asshole has and make it mine. From his job to his woman, I want it. All of it.
Every last bit.
“She’ll realize quick you’re worthless,” he says with a smile.
I return his smile. “Violet never protests when I have her spread out on my desk and my tongue in her—”
“Stop!” Violet miraculously appears and steps in between us, her beautiful face twisted in anger. Damn it, she probably heard every word. “Both of you.”
“Violet. Darling.” Lawrence reaches for her, his expression going from angry to beseeching in an instant. “I hope after hearing everything you realize what a scumbag McKay is.”
“I think I’m starting to realize what scumbags the both of you are.” She sends me a pointed look and I want to
laugh. Cheer her on. I love it when she’s feisty. I know she’s pissed at me but when she shows this side, I can’t help but be aroused. “Stop fighting over me like I’m a piece of property.”
“Darling, please. Let me explain—”
“There’s no need to explain, Zachary,” she interrupts. “Clearly the two of you are having a ‘my penis is bigger than yours’ competition. I’d suggest maybe you should quit while you’re ahead.”
Lawrence’s mouth falls open and I snicker. She whirls around, glaring at me, her lips still bare from when I kissed her lipstick off just moments ago, a faint red mark on the side of her neck because I nibbled and sucked her flesh. Possessiveness rises within me and unable to stop myself, I reach out and touch the spot, my fingers gentle as I caress her. “Did I do that?” I ask, my voice low.
“Oh for Christ’s sake,” Lawrence mutters as she reaches up to touch her neck, her fingers colliding with mine.
“What is it?” I guide her hand to the spot and she touches it gingerly, pride swarming within me that I marked her. My feelings for her are so completely fucked up I can barely wrap my head around them. “My God, Ryder, did you give me a hickey?”
She sounds mildly horrified, but I don’t really care.
Take that, Lawrence. Take fucking that.
Chapter Fifteen
Violet
“Rumor has it Zachary and Ryder McKay were fighting over you last night,” Rose says as she enters my office.
Dread settles in my stomach, and I prop my elbows on my desk and cover my face with my hands. “Where did you hear that?” I ask, my voice muffled against my palms. It is far too early to deal with something like this. Of course, I’ve been dealing with it since the moment Ryder dragged me into that closet last night. Not that I fought him. Oh, no.
I went willingly and with no regret.
The things I said to him, the way he touched me, how he demanded I suck his fingers … my skin tingles just thinking about it. And that orgasm—it shook me to my very core. My legs were wobbly the rest of the night.
Needless to say, the moment in the closet and the argument afterward led to a restless—and unfortunately sleepless—night.