A Man Who Knows What He Wants: A Steamy Standalone Instalove Romance Read online

  Does she want it?

  Does she want my babies inside of her?

  Jesus, I need to calm down, stop letting my thoughts go to these bat-shit crazy places.

  “Wait,” she whimpers, leaning back. “We can’t, not here. We shouldn’t have even done this.”

  “You have no idea how badly I want to fuck you. You have no damn clue…” I move my finger inside of her, stroking her sweet slick spot. “I need to bend you over and take that juicy ass from behind, slamming into that tight slit until you have no choice but to take me. You ever been fucked like that, Bria?”

  She blinks, shaking her head, leaning away from me.

  I’m not sure where this change has come from, but it’s like she’s suddenly questioning everything we just did.

  It’s there in the way she looks at me – the instant regret.

  “Can you…”

  She nods down, meaning my hand.

  I remove my hand from her pants and step back, away from her, confusing rumbling through me at the sudden change in her.

  It must be because we’re in the restroom.

  What the hell was I thinking, letting myself go like that?

  But there’s still a tightness in my cock, right at the base, a real throbbing that can only be cured when I push inside my woman.

  “I’m sorry,” she says, shaking her head. “I don’t think—I can’t—I have to go…”

  She turns quickly, throws the door open, and races down the hallway. I stride out and stare after her.

  She leaves in such a hurry, buttoning up her pants as she races down the corridor.

  She’d rather risk somebody seeing her leaving like that than…

  What the fuck was that look on her face about?

  Clenching my fists, I tell myself to ignore it, ignore her. She’s done me a favor by breaking things off. Now I don’t have to worry about her, whether she feels the same as I do because she obviously doesn’t.

  She obviously just got caught up in the moment.

  Fine then.

  I’ll forget about her.

  But as I leave, I know it’s a damn lie.

  My mind is already filled with thoughts of her, my Bria, the only woman I’ll ever need. The only woman I can even imagine being with.

  My Bria, the woman who has made me feel more in a few days than any other woman in my entire life. No one has even come close, even close to close. Bria is the brightest thing in my life, making everything else dim, difficult to focus on.

  Bria, I snarl silently, stalking across the lot. I don’t think I can resist you.

  Chapter Seven

  Bria

  It’s freaking impossible to focus for the next few days, spending my time with the other interns, fixing costumes, helping with continuity. I spend my time praying I’ll never see Braden again and also wishing he’ll walk around the corner, push me against the wall… roughly shove his hands down my pants and play with my pussy again.

  Freaking heck, heck, heck, that was like a fantasy come to life. I’ve touched myself thinking about him so many times, but to have his hands on me…

  It makes me feel all tingly to think about, Braden Braxten’s finger inside of me, thick and powerful as he brought me to orgasm like I’ve never felt. It comes to me at the worst times, like when I’m supposed to be focused on stitching.

  I start to think about Braden tearing at the stitches of my dress, revealing my bare skin as he makes that growling animal noise he made in the ladies’ room.

  I still can’t believe we did it in there.

  All through the next few days, I’m on high alert, wondering if anybody’s going to say anything. But so far nobody has. I think we got away with it.

  But he wanted to do so much more.

  His eyes blazed and his whole body shook when he said he wanted to bend me over right there. It wasn’t even the fact we were in the restroom.

  It was how confident he sounded, how sure I could keep pace with his carnal desires.

  How could I tell him? Will it make him want me more, or will he take it as a sign I’m too young for him?

  I love our age gap.

  He’s so mature, with his silver hair and his strong jaw, and his thick manly body. He’s so much better than the high school boys who pretend to be men.

  Most of the time I manage to keep my mind somewhat focused until I get back to my apartment. But if I have to see Braden striding across the lot, eyes forward, face set...if I have to see him looking beastly and manly and furious like he hates me for how I ran out on him, my channel gets all hot, my clit tingling and buzzing.

  I’ve never felt like this before, not even close to this. I didn’t even know a man could make a woman feel like this.

  When I get home to my apartment, I’m a mess, falling onto bed and grinding my hot center, losing myself in memories of the way he roughly shoved his hand down my pants. I relive the tingling sensation of his finger grinding up inside of me.

  And his words, most of all his words.

  I remember how hot his breath felt when he snarled in my ear.

  “Come. For. Me.”

  That’s usually when I start twitching and whimpering, losing myself to the orgiastic memories of my man.

  My man.

  Visions torment me, really freaking impossible things.

  I dream about ski trips with our smiling happy family of six. I see us sitting in the garden with a dog loping around and all the children laughing. Weddings, children, grandchildren, graduations, anniversaries… a whole world springs to life in my mind, a whole other life which is just plain ridiculous.

  He wanted to finger and fuck the costume intern in the restroom, not marry me, not be mine.

  But I can’t stop the thoughts from bouncing around my head in the moments after my orgasm when the pleasure is buzzing through me.

  Today I’m glad I didn’t see Braden because it’s getting harder to see how grim his features are.

  As I walk out of the lot and down the small hill to my bus stop – with the setting sun shining down a dark orange, and cars passing back and forth – I think, yeah, maybe this is it.

  Maybe Braden Braxten and I had a steamy moment in the restroom and nothing else will ever happen with us.

  Near-physical pain stabs through me, spreading sharply, as the word no, no, no howls through me. It’s like my body is sending me signals, screaming up and down.

  You should’ve bent over and ground onto his massive cock when you had the chance, a voice hisses inside of me. You should have bounced up and down and taken everything he had, even if it hurt a little because it’s so big, even if you’re a little anxious. You should’ve taken his cock until he gave you his seed.

  I bite down, trying to push the voice away.

  It’s not a good idea to get all excited about Braden when I’ve still got three buses until I’m home. I was so freaking keyed up about the memory of him yesterday, the bumping of the bus purred against my center, tempting me with even more thoughts of him.

  How can I control this sort of lust?

  It’s not like I can start letting myself moan on the bus. Heck, that would sure get some weird looks.

  When I reach the bottom of the hill, I stop and let out a gasp.

  It’s Braden, changed into a pale blue dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His arms were massive, the fabric of his shirt pulled tight, like corded rope pulled taut. His pants are silver just like his hair, his belt buckle glinting in the fading sun. His hair slightly mussed and his gaze firm, unflinching, hard.

  He stands next to his car, a black Ford Mustang.

  “Get in.”

  Chapter Eight

  Braden

  My cock is so hard, especially in these pants, nowhere near as loose as my costume. My manhood is pulsing and throbbing and trying to make me do insane things. She’ll be able to see the outline if she looks down.

  It’s the way she’s standing, her arms crossed over her middle as though to protect herself from my predator’s hand. Her forearms push against her breasts so that they bulge upward, igniting that deep hunger inside of me.

  Her hair is all wavy down her back, her shirt pale and wide at the neck, showing just a little skin. But enough to get my mind whirring.

  “Where are we going?” she murmurs.

  “I’m taking you home. I don’t want you riding the bus. So get in.”

  I climb into the car and take my seat, squeezing my hands down on the steering wheel as I warn myself to stay calm here, to not let my deranged thoughts fly out of my lips before I’ve had the chance to decide I want to tell her.

  But what am I doing?

  There’s no plan here. I’m just following the feeling in my chest – the warm nostalgia shivering through my mind.

  I’m nostalgic for things that haven’t even happened with Bria yet, for the first time she holds our child, and the tears glimmering in her eyes as she approaches me at the altar.

  It should be impossible…

  No, fuck that word, fuck that word.

  It doesn’t matter what it should be. It matters what is, and there’s no doubt about these feelings taking possession of me.

  But I can’t let them rule me. I have to be in control.

  I almost laugh at the notion as Bria nervously walks around to the passenger side and climbs in. She lets out a short cute-as-fuck breath as she sits down, interlocking her hands in her lap after putting her handbag in the footwell.

  Control?

  Yeah, right.

  My gaze rests on her handbag for a few moments, at the scuff marks on it, how worn the strap is.

  For a crazy moment, I want to take out my wallet and give her every goddamn penny I have. Because it’s hers already, half hers… I own her, and she owns me.

  I’m claiming her and she’s claiming me.

  It’s a man’s duty to make sure his woman never wants for anything, a man’s duty to provide for his family.

  I squeeze the steering wheel harder, taking in the sight of her thick tempting legs in her tight black pants.

  Fuck.

  To bite down on those thighs, sink my teeth in and listen to the way it makes her whimper. I’d play her like an instrument, biting harder, kissing and nibbling to make her moan. I could spend an hour or more on every single part of her.

  I start the engine and turn on to the road.

  “Where do you live?” I ask, as I join the traffic and head toward the freeway.

  She gives me the address and I punch it in. I open my mouth to tell her she doesn’t have to live in that low income neighborhood. She can have a whole damn palace if she wants, anything she wants for the rest of her life.

  But if I cross that line, I can’t trust anything she—

  Bria. Is. Not. Like. That.

  Instead, I focus on the road, staring straight ahead, my hands way too tight on the steering wheel.

  I watch her out of my peripheral vision, sneaking glances at me. Her young eyes are full of light and need.

  “Are we going to talk about the last time we saw each other?” I snarl.

  There – it’s out there.

  Even if I didn’t plan on blurting it out like that, even if there are pieces of me roaring to shut up and just drive.

  If we talk about last time, I won’t be able to keep the thought of her whimpering creaming body from taking complete control of me.

  She lets out a whimper.

  Does she know what those little noises do to me?

  She can’t, otherwise, she’d know better than to let them out of those kissable fuck-me lips so often.

  “I don’t know,” she whispers.

  I laugh gruffly, hopefully hiding how full of frustrated emotions I am. “You don’t know why you ran away like that? Is it because we were in the restrooms?”

  “Well, that’s not exactly, you know, the place I want to do something like that.”

  “Then why were you whimpering and creaming like a horny girl?” I snap.

  She flinches at the sharpness in my voice, a blush spreading down her neck. That blush… it’s like a track leading to the places I need to massage and caress and please as she begs me for more and more.

  “Because it felt so good,” she whispers.

  “Louder,” I command.

  She whimpers again, nodding. “It felt good, okay? But that doesn’t mean I want to have sex in the restroom when anybody could just walk in. That’s not really the situation I imagined…”

  “Imagined what?” I snarl as we join the ramp for the highway.

  My voice is loud and I warn myself to rein myself back a little bit, to stop so much ferocious compulsion from brimming up inside me. Maybe she’ll be able to sense the real source of my rage, and then…

  And then what?

  Maybe she feels the same. I get what I want, what I need.

  “Bria, what did you imagine?” I growl.

  “My first time.” Her voice is low. “I never imagined having my first freaking time in a freaking restroom, okay?”

  Fuck.

  My whole body is pulsing like there’s a series of explosions going off inside of me. The tip of my cock swells and precome leaks out, burning hot as it seeps from my cock. My helm rubs against my pants, suddenly feeling tighter, suddenly feeling like I’m going to burst free.

  Fuck.

  I could grab her by the back of her head and push her sweet mouth down on my cock.

  A virgin.

  My virgin.

  Nobody else has ever claimed that young hole. Nobody else will ever claim her innocent slit.

  It’s me, just me, forever me.

  “So that’s why you left.”

  My voice is rough, with a ferocious tone. It must hint at how badly I want her, need her. I need to take her, slam into her channel as it makes needy squelching noises as I fill her for the first time.

  The first time.

  I’m aching, howling inside, trembling.

  But she deserves something special for her first time.

  Hell, maybe she does, but do I really think I’ve got that sort of restraint?

  “I didn’t know how to tell you. It’s not exactly something I want to advertise. And when you said all that stuff, all that hot crazy stuff…”

  “What?” I risk a glance at her, but I have to quickly turn back to the road.

  Her lips are pursed, a real cute pouty look on her face. It’s like she’s angry with herself for not letting me bend her over and claim her fresh slit right there, which just makes me think about when I do finally take her.

  Ah.

  I’m dying, holding myself back.

  The road, I need to focus on the road.

  “I knew I wouldn’t be able to live up to it. So I had to go.”

  “You don’t have to live up to anything,” I snap, warning myself to be careful.

  I’m dangerously close to the claim-her talk, the revelation I can’t let myself indulge in.

  “You just need to be who you are, with all shivering, all the need rushing through you. Fucking hell, Bria, when you creamed for me and bit down on my jacket… I can’t stop thinking about it.”

  “Really?” she whispers, hope flaring in her voice. “I thought you were done with me. You never look at me.”

  “I do. Just not when you’re looking. And when I walk past you and I stare straight ahead, that’s because I know what I’ll do if I let myself look at you. I’ll charge across the set and take you right there.”

  “Really?”

  “Are you going to keep saying that?” I tease. “Yes, really. Everything I say to you, I mean it. Really.”

  She folds her arms across her chest, which is one of her sexiest damn gestures. It’s like she’s trying to make me look at the way her breasts shift and bulge in her shirt, like she’s trying to draw my eyes to those round fleshy perfect globes.

  It’s like she’s trying to drive me crazy, trying to turn me into a complete animal.

  Next comes that cute breathy way she has of sighing like she’s struggling to put everything I’ve told her into some sort of order in her head.

  “But you don’t want me less, now that you know?”

  “That you’re a virgin?” I snarl.

  “Hmm.”

  “No.” I laugh, humorlessly, the laugh of a beast who’s about to go into full berserker mode. “If anything, it makes me want you more.”

  “Why?” she whispers.

  The question barrels into me. To answer it would mean delving into all of my feelings toward her. But I’m not sure what the alternative is. I’m not sure how else to answer her.

  “You ask a lot of questions, don’t you, baby girl?” I snap. “Why don’t you focus on getting that virgin slit ready for when we get back to your place?”

  She gasps. “Braden, I’m really sorry. I want to. I really freaking do. Believe me. But I don’t think I can – not like this, not this quickly. I’m sorry. I just know I’ll get myself all stressed out and completely ruin it and I can’t bear the thought of doing that.”

  “Enough,” I say, squeezing the wheel even tighter, driving the heel of my palm against it. “I get it. Don’t worry. I won’t claim you that way tonight. But you’re living in a fucking dream world if you think I’m not getting something from you. You have no idea how crazy you make me, how hard, how goddamn rock solid.”

  “What do you mean?”

  There’s something in her voice, as though there isn’t a single part of her that can fight what she feels for me – the same burning I feel for her.

  And yet that isn’t right…

  She wants to wait, wants to delay me claiming her.

  I wonder if she’d feel any different if she knew the truth about my feelings for her, the full totality of them.

  “I mean I need to taste you,” I snark fiercely. “I mean I need to lick that hot gorgeous pussy until you can’t take it anymore, until every single part of you is quivering and creaming. That’s what I mean. So be a good girl and get ready to squirt for me.”

  Fuck.

  She moans and squeezes her legs together, as though the thought of what I’m going to do to her is almost too much to handle, let alone the act itself. She looks over at me with quivering lips.