Page 30 of Cole

She flushed even brighter, and bit her lip. There was something innocent about that look. Didn’t she know? No, I realized as I watched her fidget with her skirt. She really didn’t know. Interesting.

“Are you—making fun of me?” she asked. I hadn’t expected that glimpse of a soft underbelly.

I shook my head slowly and shifted, sending her eyes back to my obvious hard-on. “Clearly not.”

“You might be the only guy to think that,” she murmured, soft as a whisper.

I shrugged. “There’s no accounting for taste in this town, and besides… my opinion is the only one that matters, isn’t it?”

She brought her eyes to mine. Her pupils were huge. She nodded slowly, reluctantly. She was caught in her lie, and there was no getting out of it, unless she caved and told me why the hell she’d been sneaking around my office.

I relaxed back, setting my hands on the arms of the chair, and nodded meaningfully to her.

“Well, get a move on, sweetheart, I don’t have all night. There’s probably a line forming outside to come and have a crack at this. You’re not unique.” The carefully chosen dickish words had the desired effect. I knew women hit on me because I represented a fantasy to them. Rough and dangerous, but rich enough to take care of her. The president of an MC, no matter what he looked like, or even fucking smelled like, always had plenty of offers. Honestly, it turned my stomach for women to throw themselves at me, which was pretty much the reason why I didn’t fuck around at The Clutch, or anywhere lately. Was that jaded? Fuck, yes. I was the most jaded of all.

Belle scoffed and tossed her hair, then leaned forward and placed her hands on the armrests of my chair, her thumbs touching my wrists.

“You think I won’t do it?” she murmured, a note of challenge in her tone.

I shrugged cynically. I saw her resolve form, and harden. Someone didn’t like to lose. I knew that feeling. I was the exact same.

Then she wet her lips, suddenly nervous, and actual anticipation roared through me. Somehow, she was hardheaded, sneaky, alluring, and so fucking innocent all at the same time.

“What should I do?” she murmured, her voice low. Her eyes rose to mine, and that heat that had been pooling at the base of my spine liquefied. “I don’t know what to do.” Fucking hell. Like I needed another reminder that she was too damn young and inexperienced for me. I patted my lap.

“Come sit here. Show me what a good girl you can be for me,” I instructed her, and to my satisfaction, she complied. I was wearing a grease-stained white T-shirt, and old jeans with plenty of rips and holes, the kind that wore through from hard work, not designer bullshit. My hands were dirty too, from working on a car, and calloused from the life I’d lived for longer than I could remember.

Still, she climbed onto my lap without a second thought.

Her weight settled on my lap, her cunt right over my cock, with only material separating us. Suddenly the months—or had it been over a year?—of voluntary celibacy felt like a liability. My control was dangerously thin.

“Well done, sweetheart, now… get comfortable,” I ordered. My mouth was feeling dry suddenly, and the world had zeroed down to this moment, this fucking chair, and a pattern of freckles I wanted to taste.

Gingerly, she moved on my lap, grinding her pussy against my crotch, settling herself more firmly on it.

“Like this?” she asked hesitantly. I lost the battle to keep my hands off her and gripped her waist. Shit. She was small. Probably one of those Pilates princesses that all the female students at HHU seemed to be nowadays. I’d never looked twice at any of those girls, but for some reason, this one, creeping around my shop to spy on me, and then looking me in the eye and lying about it, was different. She had balls, and I wanted to find out exactly how big they were.

“Clever girl, just like that,” I murmured to her.

She flushed again, the rosy-pink tint rising up her throat. She liked that compliment. So, she wasn’t just a sneaky little liar, but a sneaky little liar with daddy issues. I moved her hips with a firm grip, sliding her across my hard-on, back and forth, until my blood was burning in my veins.

Fuuuuck.

I stilled, taking a ragged breath, and pushed the lust from my voice. This had gone far enough. It was dangerous. She’d called my fucking bluff.

“Ok, you’ve made your point. Get up.” Letting her go was the last thing I wanted, but she wasn’t doing this because she wanted to, and that was the ultimate mood killer. I pushed on her hips, but stopped when her hand lifted to my T-shirt and gripped tightly, holding onto her place.

“No,” she murmured softly.

I looked up at her, surprised by her insistence.

I cocked my head to the side. “No?”

She bit her lip and shook her head. “No.”

My blood surged, burning hot and urgent.

“No means seeing this through, Goldilocks—do you get what that means?”