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

  “But you won’t be angry? That I can’t go any further, I mean.”

  “No,” I tell her firmly.

  Even if I’m not sure it’s a lie.

  Even if I’m not sure I’m going to be able to hold myself back once I get started on that curvy virginal body of hers.

  That’s the thought that really gets me going, that twists through me and spreads hot possessive hands of pure power.

  Virgin, virgin, virgin, the voice howls in my mind, compelling me to deeper and deeper fantasies.

  But I need to try and stay calm, to not let myself get carried away.

  Otherwise, I’ll bring the whole mess out into the open, and she’ll think I’m insane.

  Chapter Nine

  Bria

  “It isn’t much,” I murmur, waving my hand around the small apartment as anxiety stabs at me.

  I was overjoyed with the apartment when I first moved in, pride brimming inside of me when I took in the sight of the simple decorations. I didn’t care about the damp creeping up the walls, the thinness of the windows, or the general bad odor of the place.

  I was just happy that I had a place to call mine.

  It’s niggled at me, how grateful I am for the bare necessities in life. I almost wept in gratitude at this cruddy apartment.

  But I can’t deny it’s better than living at the orphanage.

  Braden walks in beside me, towering over me, looking completely out of place in the surroundings. He looks down at me with a stern look, his jaw tight.

  When he looks at me like that, I’m not sure whether he’s going to tackle me or kiss me. My womb screams for the latter, screeches for Braden to shove me up against the wall and ignore my concerns from before.

  You don’t think you’re ready? He’ll snarl in my ear, and then tear down my pants and drive inside of me before I have a chance to protest.

  He’ll fuck me hard, savagely, crashing into me so I can’t even try to form the word no, let alone actually say it.

  “Where’s the bedroom?” He places his hand on the small of my back, sending warmth shivering all across my body. “Bria?”

  There’s an insistent note in his voice, like a beast growling to be served his meal. It’s a note that says, I am going to fucking savage you if you don’t answer me.

  “That door there,” I say, pointing to the one on the left.

  It’s not like there are loads of options anyway. There are only two doors, one to the bathroom and one to the bedroom.

  “Come on,” he growls, leaning down so his warm breath whispers over my cheek. “I need to taste that fucking pussy. I need to feel you squirting all over my mouth. It’s like this…”

  He trails off, cutting away his sentence with a snarl like the animal he’s becoming. He seems even more unhinged than he did in the restroom, everything throbbing and bulging, expanding like he’s going to lose control if I don’t do what he says.

  I let out a whimper as he drags me across the room by my arm. He doesn’t squeeze me tightly, but there’s enough strength in his grip to let me know I’m completely under his control, that he could do anything he wanted to me and there’s nothing I could do to stop him, not that I want to stop him.

  My sex sends tingles lancing through me at the thought, dancing in celebration.

  He shoves the bedroom door open and looks around the small room, with its single bed and bare walls and boxes stacked in the corner. His face drops for a moment, provoking the insane urge in me to rise to my apartment’s defense.

  But then his gaze returns to me and fire ignites in his eyes, blazing through him, the tendons in his throat shifting.

  “Get. On. The. Bed.”

  Without waiting for an answer, he gives me a shove, pushing me back.

  I giggle as I fall onto the mattress, bouncing up and down.

  His smirk twitches as he looms over me, staring down. “Something funny?”

  “This is all so crazy.”

  I glance over at the boxes, muttering a silent thanks I left his poster in there and didn’t put it on the wall. Now that would be something to explain.

  “Yes,” he growls. “It is. The way you make me feel…”

  He trails off again like he did last time. I want to scream at him to finish what he was going to say, that it isn’t fair for him to constantly leave me hungry to know what he has to say.

  But then he falls to his knees and slides his hands up my legs, cutting away all logical thought. All I can think about is the sensation of his hands against my thighs, moving higher and higher, my sex flooding with heat and wetness the closer he gets.

  “That’s it,” he grunts. “Trimble and moan for me.”

  I didn’t even realize I was moaning, but when he points it out, I hear myself. It’s like listening to someone else, somebody way more confident than me.

  It’s like my need is controlling my lips.

  Another moan escapes me when he roughly pulls down my pants. My panties all tangled up, meaning I’m bottomless when he brutally yanks the bundle past my ankles.

  “Fuck.”

  He digs his fingers into my thighs and pulls me down the bed. I stare down at his silver head, his eyes aimed at my sex, his shoulders bulging and pulsing like he can barely hold himself back.

  “Your pussy is perfect,” he snarls. “Pink and wet and fucking winking at me. I can tell how close you are, Bria.”

  I can’t speak, not now, not with all the lust, he’s aiming my way.

  Instead, I nod and whimper.

  The whimper nearly becomes a scream when he darts forward the heat of his breath brushing over me. He opens his mouth and pushes it against me, his upper lip crushing against my clit and his lower lip grinding against my hole.

  He moans deeply as he makes out with my sex, his tongue darting across my lips, moving up to my clit.

  He sucks on my clit, pulling it into his mouth.

  Starlight explodes across the needy nub, fluttering up and down my thighs, making my toes curl and my thighs start to tremble.

  He laughs gruffly, looking up at me with a glistening wet smirk on his face. “So soon, my horny virgin?”

  “I… don’t… know…”

  My voice is breathy, flooded with gasps, as I struggle to push the words out.

  All I can focus on is the rapture, tingling at the edges, waiting for the waves of euphoria to crash into me.

  “I know.” He grins like a jackal. “You’re fucking close. I can taste how close you are. And it tastes so good.”

  He shoves his face against my pussy again, tongue dragging up one lip and then down the other, pausing to flicker up and down my clit.

  Suddenly the flickering gets faster and there’s nothing I can do but give myself to the pleasure, bucking crazily against him, thundering need hammering through me as I grind up and down against his face.

  “Oh, oh,” I whimper. “I’m… I’m…”

  “Say it,” he snarls, without removing his mouth from my sex. I can feel the passion in the volcanic heat of his breath. “Say. It.”

  “I’m going to come.”

  On the word come he sucks my clit again, pressing his tongue firmly against it.

  I struggle to breathe as the orgasm flares to life deep in my belly, as it throws out countless starry burning hands, and my belly swarms with more pleasure than I’ve ever felt before, than I ever realized it was possible to feel.

  Everything gathers deep inside of me as he licks even faster, with furious compulsion in his movements, as though he couldn’t stop now even if he wanted to.

  Even if a bomb went off outside, even if the sky fell, even if someone barged in here… I don’t think he could even stop then.

  He’s making deep snarling noises as he licks me, like a beast who’s only now able to consume a meal he’s been waiting on forever. He grunts and growls as my sex combusts, as a thousand sensations buzzing through me with the speed and power of…

  Destiny, a voice moans from a primal place inside of me. You’re destined to give yourself to this man.

  I push away the crazy thought as the last orgiastic pulsations shudder through me, the whole bed squeaking and vibrating as I shiver against him.

  Pulsing, I let out a long breath, a choking noise coming from the back of my throat as I struggle to experience all this pleasure, overwhelming and all-consuming.

  Braden leans back when I finally stop trembling.

  My pussy feels hot, sore. But it’s a good kind of sore.

  I didn’t even know that was possible. But it’s a hot and tingly and inviting kind of sore, making me want to experience another wave of everything he has to give, making me want to grind against him with more confidence next time.

  But then he stands up, his mouth half-open, gazing down at me as though regret is rushing through him at what we’ve done.

  “I…”

  “What?” I whisper, sitting up, suddenly wishing I still had my pants on.

  Why is he looking at me like that?

  “I have to go,” he snarls, turning away.

  “Braden.”

  But he won’t listen.

  His heavy footsteps pound through the apartment, across the living room, and toward the door. I listen to the slam of the door as confusion barrels through me, stomping all over the pure and starry emotions that filled me only moments ago.

  Why would he barge out like that after what we just did?

  Chapter Ten

  Braden

  Trying to focus on my work is a goddamn joke.

  I do my best when I’m in front of the camera, forcing Bria to the back of my mind. But it’s impossible to get rid of her completely, especially when I’m wearing the clothes she selected. It’s like I can feel her all over my jacket, the same way she touched me when she first fitted it, the nervous sassiness in her touch.

  Nervous sassiness.

  It’s a mixture only my woman – my fucking woman – can achieve.

  It was the same way she creamed all over my mouth yesterday, her moans coming out like part of her was ashamed of showing so much blatant pleasure. But there was this quiver beneath the shyness, this hungry-for-more shiver that threatened to drive me fully feral.

  I spend the morning in the studio, in front of the green screen, pretending to be somebody else. But even as I exchange lines with douchebag Tyler, I can’t stop thinking about the unscripted truth I need to reveal to my woman.

  That’s why I had to leave as I stood over her. I was so close to letting her know about the possessive passion that has taken hold of me, about the impossible and ridiculous need.

  No, it should be ridiculous, to want a stranger this badly.

  But it doesn’t feel ridiculous.

  And I can’t devalue what we have – what we’re going to have – by labeling it that.

  When I see her walking across the lot just after lunchtime, I know I can’t hold myself back anymore.

  She’s wearing a shirt and trousers, as usual, but it’s difficult not to snap when I can so easily undress her in my mind.

  It’s too easy to peel away the layers of her clothes, to remember the way her thighs trembled for me as she reached her climax.

  Before I know it, I’m striding after her, my breath loud in my ears. My heartbeat thunders as my gaze travels over her breasts, the faint outline of her bra.

  She stops and snaps her gaze toward me, mixed emotions flaring in her eyes. There’s movement all around us, people rushing around, but that doesn’t stop her from staring at me like she wants to kill me.

  Maybe it makes me messed up, but the sassiness in that expression fires through me, making my balls buzz and my seed roar.

  Even now, even after I abandoned her.

  Even when she’s angry with me.

  Perhaps it’s time to accept that everything my woman does drives me feral.

  “We need to talk,” I snap.

  “About how rude you were last night, or…”

  “Come on.”

  Without waiting for a reply, I stride past her. A moment later, I hear her following after me, her footsteps coming quickly as she struggles to keep up with my long strides.

  “You know, there’s only so much of this I can take,” she says. “If you think I’m going to let you—”

  “Let me?” I snarl, spinning on her.

  We’re standing at the corner of the studio, out of earshot of the milling business of the set. But not out of eyeshot.

  I don’t care. Maybe it’s good. It means I have to hold myself back.

  “Let me?” I say again, shaking my head.

  She stares up at me, wide-eyed as she tries to stay angry, as she tries to keep herself filled with rightful rage.

  And hell, she does have reason to be angry with me.

  There’s no denying that. She has every reason in the world to never want to speak to me again.

  “You don’t let me do anything,” I snap, staring down hard at her, her eyes glistening in the sunlight. “That’s why I left last night because I knew I was going to tell you. I knew I was going to let it all out.”

  “Let what out?” she whispers, her voice softening a little.

  “My feelings for you.” I peel off with a gruff laugh. “Fuck, I can’t even call them feelings. It’s just… reality, the way things are. I don’t feel like I need you. I know I need you.”

  She gasps, wrapping her arms across her middle.

  “I need you,” I go on, feeling as though a mammoth weight is being lifted from my shoulders. “I need to make you mine, to make you my woman so no other man can ever touch you, can ever even think about touching you. I felt it the first moment I saw you, this need, this impossible compulsion. I can’t stop thinking about the future we’re going to share together…”

  I will myself to stop, to cut myself short before I go too far.

  I’m done entertaining the possibility that Bria could turn out to be a gold digger. It simply doesn’t make sense, and I refuse to let myself view it as a possibility when it’s anything but.

  My woman would never do that.

  “The children we’re going to have,” I go on with a feral tone in my voice. “The life we’re going to share. I can’t stop thinking about the babies I’m going to put in your belly, the house we’re going to live in, the memories we’re going to make.”

  Everything in me roars to kiss her, to grab her and fuse our lips together so she can feel all the passion coursing through me, so she doesn’t have to take my word for it.

  But then she takes a step back.

  “Is this a trick?”

  I almost roar. “A trick? A fucking trick? I would die before I tricked you before I hurt you. I thought I’d made that clear.”

  “You really mean it?” she whispers.

  Her mouth is hanging open, now, her eyes wide. Her expression is a landscape of confusion, conflicting wants and needs making her difficult to read.

  I step closer, eliciting a cock-hardening little whimper. “I’ve never been more certain of anything in my entire life. I’ve never even felt close to this certain. Yes, I mean it.”

  Bria’s phone goes off from her pocket. Her face drops in a frown. “That’s Maximillia. She’ll want me back. Do you think we can maybe talk about this later?”

  Something heavy thuds into my chest, a near-physical sensation, smashing into me and twisting through me like a knife.

  But do you feel the same? I want to ask.

  I stop myself, unwilling to let so much plain emotion out into the open like that, unwilling to expose myself more than I already have.

  Of course, she thinks I’m downright insane.

  But at least she’s not leaping on my words like a gold digger. Not that I ever thought she’d do that.

  “Maybe you could meet me after work?” she murmurs, her eyes flitting down as though she’s unwilling to meet my gaze.

  “Sure,” I snarl, turning away. “Sounds good.”

  I stalk across the lot, fists clenched, the word idiot bouncing around and around in my head.

  I should’ve kept my damn mouth shut.

  Chapter Eleven

  Bria

  “Okay, so something is clearly bothering you.” I look up from the sewing machine to find Maximillia standing over me, her thin lips pulled back in a cross between a sneer and a frown of pity. “And don’t tell me I’m wrong. I make it a point to be able to read my people, Bria, and you have been notably mopey today.”

  I take an instinctive look around, making sure nobody else is eavesdropping on this conversation. But I’m in the corner of the warehouse, away from the other designers and interns.

  I’ve been staring down at my work and trying to focus, but my mind keeps skipping back to what Braden said, the beauty and the impossibility of it. I wanted to scream right there that I felt the same, but something stopped me, my instincts taking over.

  Before I knew it, I was leaving, walking away, with my heartbeat roaring in my ears and my head screaming idiot, idiot, go back there right now.

  But now I’ve let my emotions affect my work performance and maybe Maximillia isn’t going to tolerate that. Maybe she’s going to kick me off the program… which she has every right to do, considering I’m just a dorky intern, nobody really.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, finally finding my voice.

  Her frown deepens and she shakes her head. “Don’t be sorry. Just explain what this problem is, this oh-so-serious problem that is interfering with the mood of my palace.”

  Her palace is the costume warehouse, a term she often uses to describe it. Some of the other designers make fun of Maximillia’s crazy demeanor – never to her face, of course – but I love it. I find it refreshing.

  She waves an ostentatious hand.

  “This place requires everybody to be happy, motivated, but you’re sitting here like you’ve just found out vibrators have been outlawed.”

  She lets out a violent high-pitched laugh, causing several heads to snap up and then back down to their work. My cheeks turn a deep crimson even as I will them to stop, will them not to give away my inner feelings so freaking easily. Even if Maximillia is always this flamboyant and outspoken, it still catches me off-guard sometimes.