16. I Want More

Chapter 16

I Want More

HUNTER

I tear open the alcohol swab, my movements steady, silently wishing for my hard-on to settle down.

"You keep surprising me, Miss Taylor."

"Why?" She spits out. "Because I don't let you walk all over me? Or because I'm not ready to kiss your ass like everyone else?"

I smile lightly before turning to face her and gripping her chin. My hold is firm but gentle as I press the disinfectant on the cut on her cheek.

"Because the fact that I just shot and tortured one of your neighbors in front of you doesn't seem to bother you that much. I'm surprised you're sitting here talking back to me as if nothing has happened."

She falls quiet and then mutters under her breath, "Well, it's not like they didn't deserve it."

Vicious little kitten.

"True," I admit, my hand pausing as she hisses in pain.

The curve of her jaw is lovely, I muse to myself. Her face is so delicately formed, her lips a little pouty, but only when she's angry. Her eyes have this endearing wariness in them whenever they land on me. She doesn't trust me, which is smart, but she also doesn't entirely fear me, which is ... interesting.

"Also, if you wanted to hurt me, you wouldn't be sitting here trying to patch my face up. The way I see it, there's nothing to fear."

She hasn't grasped the most important part. I don't do this for any of my employees. Hell, I don't do this for anyone. I lied when I said she wasn't special. All I see when I look at her is special. The shit is blinding.

Obviously, there's something about Megan that continues to draw me in like a moth to a flame. She's a college kid, whom I promoted to manager of my club practically overnight and whom I allow to speak to me in whatever disrespectful tone she feels like.

This is like the goddamn twilight zone. Anybody else would be dead three times over.

"Turn your cheek," I command.

Reluctantly, when she turns her head, she has to face me, and I see the flash of awareness in her eyes before she looks away. However, I still continue to make an inspection of her, taking in the bruises from this afternoon and also from this night. I don't like the sight of them. She looks like she's been through a bar fight... and lost.

"Next time you want to storm off, you tell Parker to drive you home. That's what he's there for." My tone is a little hard, and her eyes widen.

"But that would be special treatment," she says in a mocking tone. "And you've made it quite clear that you don't find me the least bit special."

"You keep mentioning that," I say through gritted teeth. "Maybe my opinion matters more to you than you want to admit."

"Maybe," she shrugs casually. "Or maybe I'm just trying to understand why every time I turn around, there you are, trying to talk to my un-special ass, help my un-special ass, fix my un-special ass, sniff up my–"

My free hand darts forward, grabbing her by the neck and pushing her back as I loom over her. I can feel her blood pulsing through her jugular vein, and for a moment, I forget that she has bruises over her face or that she's been through a traumatic event.

I press her into the back of the couch, my eyes narrowed, my dick hard. "Do you really want to keep pushing me like this, Miss Taylor?"

I'm not hurting her.

I'm very careful of my grip.

But then she's also not scared of me.

There isn't an ounce of fear in those stormy eyes of hers as she gazes back at me. I see something else, though. Something that makes my cock strain against the zipper of my slacks. It's a trace of lust and submissiveness, tainted with defiance. Her small hands are curled around my wrist, but she isn't pushing me away. It makes me wonder for just a moment if something is stirring between her legs as well.

Her jaw is tight when she responds, "I don't know why you're so upset. I'm just repeating what you said."

I stare at her, my eyes drawn to her lips. Her lipstick faded hours ago, yet I want to taste them again. This defiant creature with a wary look in her eyes as if she doesn't quite know what she wants and that luscious mouth that never stops running.

"Don't," she hisses at me, her eyes sparking as if she's fully aware of what I want to do.

"Then push me away," I challenge, unable to tear my eyes away from her lips.

Fuck, what is it about this girl that's making it so hard for me to hold on to my own self-control? Why is it that whenever I'm around this damn art student, I feel like a horny sixteen-year-old kid?

I'm leaning into her, holding her in place by her swan-like neck, and she snarls at me, "You said-"

"I say a lot of things," I growl back against her mouth, my breath ghosting over her lips. "But it seems none of them ever apply to you."

And when I slam my mouth down on hers, she lets out a quiet gasp that I can feel in her throat.

Addicting.

She tastes addicting.

And I want more.

My other hand is itching to reach under her skirt, part her legs, and have a taste. I want to flip her on her stomach and bury my aching dick inside of her. I want to fuck her until she is hoarse from screams of pure pleasure. I want to put my marks in seen and unseen places on her body.

I kiss her fiercely, desperately, drinking her in, wanting more. Her hand is still holding on to my wrist, and when I give her neck a slight squeeze, a needy whimper escapes her, and her hands go limp.

Fuck, she has a submissive streak.

She likes this.

The realization sends all the blood from my head rushing to the one between my legs as I tighten my hand even more. When her hips arch up, I smile in satisfaction. Vaughn is going to be pissed if he's even still waiting for me downstairs because right now, I don't want to go anywhere.

As I devour Megan's mouth, I fantasize about what she will look like, her pretty red mouth wrapped around my cock as she sits at my feet, painting a picture of both obedience and submissiveness. The mental image almost makes me groan as I hook my feet around her ankles and yank them apart.

Her skirt is riding up, and it takes every ounce of self-control I have not to push it up even further. The quiet gasp that leaves her lips at the quick movement drives me wild, and I can feel my control slipping. My hand is on her bare knee; the soft skin makes me want to mark it and leave something of myself on her so that it's visible for everyone to see. When that dark thought passes through my head, I snap back to reality.

What the fuck am I doing?

I abruptly pull away from Megan who looks dazed, her eyes hazy with pleasure. There's no trace of anger or embarrassment on her face, only want. I stare down at her, taken aback by the force of my attraction to this young woman.

This makes zero sense.

All the rules I have created for myself and my world exist for a reason. I put these self-imposed chains on myself because they were needed. And yet here I am, dangerously close to violating my rules for this woman.

This beautiful woman.

I see clarity seep into Megan's eyes and a slow look of horror.

"You – You asshole!" She pushes my hand away, and I immediately grab both her wrists, pinning them beside her head.

"Calm down."

"I'll calm down once you leave!" she snarls with fury. "This is the second time today you've put your mouth on mine. Just because I work for you doesn't mean that I'm some toy for you to play around with. "

"I never said you were," I growl, the leash on my anger snapping. "You're the one who keeps calling herself that. You're the one who keeps minimizing whatever this is between us."

She falls silent as if stunned by my display of temper or the words I've just said. I'm not sure which. But Megan isn't one to be dissuaded that easily, so I'm not exactly surprised when she tries to kick me in the crotch.

I fend her off, watching her in amazement. "You really have zero self-preservation skills, don't you?"

"I didn't survive all these years," she spits out, "by letting people take advantage of me, at least not for long."

She's struggling so fiercely that I have no choice but to let her go. I don't want her to hurt herself. Her words are still ringing in my ears as she jumps to her feet, pushing me.

"I've had enough of this shit. Stop taking me shopping. Stop showing up at my school. Just stop. Either kill me or get out of my house! And by the way, I quit."

Her last statement stops me dead in my tracks. "Excuse me?"

She bares her teeth at me, "I quit this job."

"You need this job."

"Not that fucking much."

Anger curls inside of me, and I take a step toward her. "We'll see about that, Miss Taylor."

Suddenly, I notice that she looks shaken, and her hands tremble. Fuck, I may have crossed a line today.

I could leave and give her some privacy.

That would be the smart thing to do.

But I can't bring myself to leave her in this condition.

"Sit down," I decide to calm her down first. "Let me finish bandaging you up."

"No," she shakes her vehemently. "I don't want you in my home. Just get out."

She's trying to push me out, and I have to grab her by the upper arms, being careful not to hurt her. "Megan, I won't do anything to hurt you. I'm only trying to help. You have my word."

The tears in the corners of her eyes tighten something inside of me, and I curse myself for my recklessness. I know the brief moment between us on that couch was powerful, but she wasn't ready for it. I should know better. She's barely a damn adult.

"Look, I know you can do it yourself, but I just want to help." She tries to shake her head, but I release her, gently guiding her to the couch. "Come on, you've been through a lot today."

She doesn't put up much of a fight this time, and I imagine it's because of exhaustion. She looks tired. I work quietly and efficiently, trying to think past this sharp throbbing in my chest at the bruised look in her eyes.

A text on my cell phone goes off.

Vaughn: Seriously? I'm about to leave you here. Call your damn driver or take an Uber home.

He's right.

I've been up here entirely too long.

Enough is enough.

I've got to leave this woman alone and screw my head back on straight.

Me: On my way

I can tell that Megan is paying attention to what I'm doing, yet she doesn't meet my gaze as I press send on my text. I finish tending to her face and afterward toss the dirty alcohol swabs in a nearby trashcan. I'm pleased that the warm color of her umber flesh looks slightly better than it did.

There's no reason for me to remain here now, so in keeping my word, I get up to leave, but her strained question gives me pause.

"Why are you doing this?"