Torn (The McKerricks Book 1) (2 page)

I stand and politely stick my hand out for her to shake, it really is the only thing for it. And this close viewing her from the front? Yes her tits are just as good as the rest of her.

“This is my brother Connor McKerrick.” Gwen gestures nervously in my direction. Her eyes are screaming at me not to do something stupid. As the sole proprietor of a fortune 500 company I should be offended, but lets be honest, we all know I’m an ass ‘pre-calamity’. “Connor this is Miss Williams.”

She sticks the donut in her mouth, holding it there with her teeth before wiping the powder off her hands onto her jeans, before she extends her bracelet covered arm out. I mean really she has enough to cover her arm completely up her elbow... on both arms. Enough that I can
’t even see the skin. I knew this chick would be weird.

Her hand is soft in mine, small. After the small space of the handshake in which my hand may have cramped and held on longer than I intended it to, she takes the donut back out of her mouth, her damnable tongue once again darting out to lick away the left over powder, and suddenly I don
’t care how weird she is. I want. And I always get what I want.

“
Please call me Henley. Miss Williams makes me feel so old.”

After the kind words are out of her mouth, her gaze flicks down the length of my body and back up, giving me a once over. But when her eyes make it back up to mine, there is something else there, something new. She
’s on her guard. Like she knows what I’m about. Well fuck. I’m used to hard work, just not for women. I try to entertain the idea of not going after this particular conquest, but my body revolts against the idea. Good thing it’s a Saturday, cause it looks like I’ll be spending some time on this project. The gentle smile, and the way her laugh filter through to my brain seals the deal. Today. This woman is mine.

Turning off my man filter, I focus my attention on the conversation continuing steadily between Gwen and the little author. Not that I know what the hell they are talking about. I don
’t know a damn thing about cognitive subversion of morals, the indicative assimilation, what this has to do with romance books, or why any of this means anything to some guy named Grant.

“
Who the fuck is Grant?” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them, I hope whoever he is he isn’t dating her. If I don’t scratch this itch, I’m going to have to scratch a dozen more to forget it. I haven’t
wanted
a woman like this since I was a teenager.

Gwendolyn
’s set of blue eyes that match my own, and the little author’s vibrant green pair both swing over and regard me carefully. I can see the warning in Gwen’s eyes, she is freaking out. But the little author, shes looking at me like she just remembered I was here. Like she forgot I even existed. That will have to be remedied.

“
I don’t suppose you read romance Mr. McKerrick?” She calls me Mr. McKerrick and I don’t correct her. If I ask her to call me Connor, it’ll be to personal, so I respond to her slight smile with my best boardroom stare. “No, I didn’t think you did,” she finishes with a soft chuckle.

There is something there, in the warmth of her gaze. Something I don
’t want to diagnose. Fear? Panic perhaps? As soon as it’s there it’s gone, replaced by a laughing pair of green eyes.

“
Some of us have more important things to do than read about fictitious people falling in love of all things.” I want to fuck this woman so why the hell am I arguing with her? I don’t know. Maybe its because she unnerves me. Maybe it’s because I actually
want
to get between those curvy thighs. Maybe it’s because I don’t know how to
try
to get a woman to want me. Normally they just… do.

“
Mmm… I suppose that is true.” I can see in her eyes whatever conversation she might have had with me is getting shut down, as she turns back to a mortified Gwen, who of all things, is trying to apologize for my poor behavior.

Is it bad of me to cross my arms and sulk in my chair like a scolded child? Yes. Do I do it anyways? You can bet your ass I do.

I try my best to ignore them chatting, but its impossible. Her voice slinks into my mind driving me crazy.

“
You know it might be too forward of me,” Gwen starts hesitantly, “But how do you do it? How do you have so much confidence... how do you have so much... awesomeness?”

I can see the question startles her, by the way her eyes widen. She tilts her head ever so slightly to the side, and her silky brunette curls catch the light as they slide over her shoulder, as she turns to watch Gwen closely.

“I normally wouldn't be so honest about this... especially not in public,” the little author starts with a grin, “But I can see a lot of myself in you so I'll tell you a secret.” Out of the corner of my eyes I can see Gwen nodding vigorously, and this... Henley leans forward with a grin.

“
You have to wear things that you think look good on you. From the ground up. For me the most important part is the panties. In fact it might all be in the panties,” she replies with a soft laugh.

I can't help myself then, as my head snaps around to take this little slip of a woman in. Is she seriously talking about her underwear in this bistro. Not that anyone is listening... besides me. But damn. Could she make my dick any harder?

“
You have to wear something that makes
you
feel sexy. It doesn't actually have to
be
sexy just needs to make
you
feel that way. When you feel sexy you are more confident... more powerful. Ready to face anything. It's all in the undies. At least it is for me.”

I try to hold it in, I try to control myself, but I just can
’t.  “And what kind of panties exactly, does a woman wear when she wants to spend a day selling books to lonely women?”

Her laugh is soft and melodic, and I thank God she found that amusing because it sounded like assholery even to me, and I
’m a terrible judge, but her eyes sparkle as they pin me to my seat.

“
Wouldn’t you like to know,” she responds back her eyes glowing with mirth, her lips quirked into a smile. Lips I would literally kill to have wrapped around my dick.

“
Gwen,” the little author starts with a smile. “Please feel free to email me or something. Don’t be a stranger, but I’ve got to head back. It’s a quite a ride home for me.” She gives Gwen one last smile, before her gaze flicks to me and she smirks, but says nothing as she gets up and leaves.

“
Oh my God Connor! How could you-”

“
I'll be right back,” I call over my shoulder as I get up stalk after her. I don't know what I'm doing, but I can hear Gwen groan in response. Maybe she knows what I'm doing. I wish someone can clue me in, but my body moves on it's own as it stalks after the little author.

Before my mind has a chance to stop my body, my hand snakes out and wraps around her upper arm. With a twist I open the women
’s bathroom door, push Henley in, and lock the door behind us. She doesn't back away startled, like the women who are more like mice. She doesn't flirt and flit about like the scantly clad super models do, every move aimed at seduction. She lifts her chin, her green eyes are snapping fire, and keeps her gaze leveled on me. Her smirk never fades. Shes daring me. Shes fucking daring me to make a move. Whoever this is, she’s not the nice little author from the table, and my whole body tightens in anticipation. This woman is a challenge. One I have to accept.

My body is stalking forward before I can stop it. Even as I stalk closer she does not move, just tilts her chin higher so that she continues to stare into my eyes. When I get close enough I reach out and grab her arm, her skin is hot underneath her clothes. Burning. I jerk her forward until our bodies are flush, the flame inside me igniting at the soft press of her body. So soft.

The scent of her is intoxicating, no perfume nothing special, just... her. My hands skim slowly along the exposed skin of her arms, our breathing becoming short ragged gasps. It's like there is an electrical current pulling us further into each others orbit, making us want. Making me want. And I never want women, I just want the pleasure that can be taken from their bodies, but this is different. This is... something else entirely. I want her so bad my body is trembling with the force of the desire, and I always get what I want.

Shifting my stance, I know she can feel me pressed against her stomach. I know she can feel how hard she is making me, but the only response I get is her eyebrow raising. What does that mean. Gritting my teeth I just continue to stare down at her. She is so small. She can barely reach five-foot-two I'm sure, a whole foot shorter then I am. I've never fucked a woman like this... but I'm about to. God am I about to fuck this little slip of a thing.

She's so close I can smell her, even her scent is soft, sugar, pastries. She smells like the donut. This close I can tell that she is as affected by me as I am her. At least I hope that's what the flush means. All I know is it's gorgeous on her face. Subtle... natural. Just like the rest of her.

“
Henley,” I say slowly, savoring the way the word feels, savoring the taste of its weight, “this is the only chance I’m going to give you to back away. Back away from what I know we both want.”

The shiver that runs through her excites me, as I raise my hand and stroke my thumb across her plump pink lips. Her eyes are wide, watching me, but she doesn
’t pull away. Hell yeah she wanted this.

I can feel the grin pulling at my lips, as I slip the condom out of my pocket. Biting down on the plastic I rip it open with one hand, as the other pulls down my zipper. The crinkling of the wrapper practically echos in the small bathroom. The only other sound is our heavy breathing, as the static energy zings between us. This is the first time in a long time I feel
excitement
to be bedding a woman... well minus the bed.

At the sight of her so flushed before me, I am almost tempted to give her
more
. To touch her, taste her, but that's not how I play this game. So I give her a moment, where our eyes are locked, she only gets this moment to turn away. To turn me down. If not, and I hope to God she doesn't turn away, I will scratch the shit out of this itch. Maybe if I do the buzzing in my head will finally ease up.

“
Are you just going to stand there? Or do you actually know how to use that?” She laughs, her grin widening.

This fucking woman. I'm on her then with a growl and I don't give her any time to adjust. In that one simple motion, I've got her sitting on the edge of the counter, and I'm between her legs, rocking against her.

“Oh-” she breaths heavily, arching her body further against mine.

“
Yeah, Oh,” I snarl, my face pressed against her neck. I let my lips slide over the sensitive skin, and nibble lightly on her collar bone.

With one last thrust I pull her lacy little black panties aside with my fingers, which presses my cock through the wet folds in her skin, as I try to hold back a shudder. She shifts her hips making the next thrust the one that claims her, as I slide all the way in.

Her pussy is tight. Too tight. Tight enough to make me groan out loud which only makes her grin wider. Tight enough that it is almost painful.

“
Christ... I do have to show you how to use it don't I?” She laughs breathlessly.

Before I even have time to show her who is in charge here, she has already pushed and twisted until I am the one against the counter.  Her hips start in a slow and rhythmic pace. I can't keep back the groan, at the feel of her tight, wet cunt sliding all the way off, then sliding all the way back down, taking all of me in.

My hands skim along the black lace stockings, all soft. She is so soft. She is just as perfect under the scrutiny of my hands as she had appeared. The pads of my fingers feel like they are alive with electricity as I run them higher, grabbing a handful of her ass, holding on for dear life.

Her body begins rocking harder, frantic, as she clutches my shirt in her hands. I meet her thrust for thrust, as my head falls back against the wall. There are no sounds, beside the panting and thrusting. The sound of our bodies grinding together, as I use my hands to guide her, or to hang on, I don't know anymore. She doesn't let out a single moan. For the first time I realize I want to hear a woman's voice. I want to hear her calling out her pleasure. Pleasure I give her. I open my eyes to slits, as I watch her work to find her own release.

Her perfectly arched eyebrows are deeply furrowed, as she rides me. She is raking her teeth across her lower lip holding back every pant, every breath, every moan. The rocking of her hips becomes more chaotic, and I know she is close. I can see it in the dark look of her eyes. I can feel it in the way her pussy throbs and tightens around my cock, and its driving me wild. And when her orgasm hits her, I close my eyes with a groan, and try to hold on to my sanity as her body pulls at tightens around my shaft begging me to go with her. I'm not nearly done fucking this little author yet.

The rocking slows, as her body winds down. Then she slides off slowly, finally. Finally. I'm going to fuck her so hard. I just need a minute to catch my breath, or for the first time I might end this too early.