“Fuck,” he snarled, curling her hair around his fist and pulling back sharply. His dick popped out of her mouth and she panted, shaking. He reached down and lifted her under her arms, and once again on her feet, her legs shook. His fingers gripped her chin hard, turning her face up to his, and she reached for his mouth with hers. He turned her away sharply at the last second, spinning her so that her back was to him again. She let out a whine of disappointment at being denied his mouth, his kiss, and he spanked her ass again hard, making her choke back a scream of pain. Her pussy throbbed with need. He wrapped his fingers around her throat and pressed his front tightly against her back and she shifted, grinding against him with a strangled moan. Speaking directly into her ear, he growled, “Good girls get kissed, butterfly. Do you think you deserve a kiss? I don’t.”
Hurt lanced through her sharply, making her chest ache and tears prick behind her eyes. This wasn’t the Grant she’d met in Chicago, and she realized then that he had meant it when he said he was going to hurt her. She just hadn’t expected it to hurt so deeply. Hadn’t expected him towantto hurt her,not really.
Bending her forward over the desk again, she went willingly, and he kicked her feet together. As much as her heart ached inside her chest, she still wanted him. Needed to feel him. Unable to see him behind her, she closed her eyes and listened,instead. Their labored breaths were the only sounds in the small office. She heard the telltale rip of a condom wrapper being torn open. And then his massive hands were spanning her soft hips as he planted his feet wide to accommodate for his height, the broad head of his cock notched at her entrance. Panic set in.Wait!her mind railed.Van! She was supposed to wait—
“Grant, wait—” she started, but the plea was cut short when he thrust hard, seating himself all the way inside her. She moaned, the sensation of being so full of him again after so long making her head spin. He ground his hips into her from behind, the edge of the desk cutting into the notch of her thighs where she was bent over it. She turned her head, resting her flushed cheek against the coolness of the desk beneath her. She could just see him over the curve of her shoulder. Her inner walls convulsed around him where he was pressed so deep. “Oh, god.”
“Fuck,” he groaned behind her, and she saw his head tipped back to stare at the ceiling. His breaths sawed in and out of him, his chest heaving, and she hiccupped a sob at the raw emotion she could feel radiating off of him. His hips pumped in slow, shallow thrusts, his fingers digging into the fleshy curves of her waist. “You come back into our lives like a goddamn hurricane, making a mess of everything. You’re already coming between us, butterfly, and you need to learn.”
His palm cracked against the meaty part of her butt again and she rolled her cheek on the desk on another sob. Pain pierced through her chest at his words.She wasn’t trying to make a mess of anything.He pulled out and slammed back in, just once, and she moaned, distracted by the pleasure. It was so… primal. It felt so good, and so wrong. Everything hurt, but it just feltsogood. And she had missed him. If this was what he needed, she could do it, even if it killed her inside.God, but Van… he’d promised, and she was—
Twisting her head, she panted brokenly, “I’m not trying to—I won’t, I promise. But Grant, please…I needVan—”
Pulling out all the way to the tip, he slammed back in, turning her words into another throaty moan. The edge of the desk hurt where it cut into her skin, but she didn’t care. Her fingers clenched and unclenched against her back, and she wished more than anything that she could touch him. She needed to feel him. Betrayal and guilt stabbed through her and tears stung her nose. This was going to kill Van. Fuck but it feltso good… she had missed them, so much…
Grant pounded into her fiercely. He was far rougher than he’d been in Chicago, brutal in his intensity; his hips slapping into the backs of hers, her already stinging flesh tender from the spankings he’d doled out. He murmured from behind her; low, dark words she couldn’t make out, but they sounded filthy and heady and wanton, if a touch angry, and so fraught with emotion. Her legs started to shake, and she panted against the desk. “Oh fuck, please Grant—”
But he stopped just as she was about to go over again, and she moaned in disappointment as the second orgasm he’d denied her abated. Leaning low over her back, he growled in her ear, “Whose cock is inside you, Hope? Hmm?”
“Grant,” she moaned, tossing her head on the desk, rolling her cheek on the cool surface. Tears stung her nose again. This was supposed to be different. It was supposed to be all of them… But she whispered, “Yours.”
“Yes,mine. Not Van’s,” he grunted low as he started again when all the remaining spasms had ceased, fucking her roughly until she was back at that precipice. Her heart seized in her chest.Van. Tears pricked her eyes, sweat was beaded on her forehead, and she could feel it down her spine under her sweater. She wanted Van—but she wanted to come so bad.She was so close again,so close, yes!—
Grant pulled sharply out of her, once again denying her an orgasm, and this time she sobbed as tears finally slid down her cheeks. She pressed her forehead against the desk, rolling it back and forth in agony. She knew then that he wasn’t going to let her finish. This was punishment. He was angry and hurt. She had hurt him, deeper than she had realized, and he had warned her he would hurt her, too. She hadn’t believed him. Hadn’t believed he would hurt herthisbadly. Not like this. On purpose. And for the first time, she was glad that Vanwasn’there for this. She had ruined it all.
Gripping her hips in his hands again, she sagged against the desk as the tears continued to slide down her cheeks. Her mind, her body, and her heart were all at war. None of them would come out the winner, though, not in this. When he went deep, she bit her lip and clenched her eyes tightly closed against the ecstasy of having him fill her so completely.
And when he came, pulsing inside her, she felt his chest heave; heard his low, throaty groan, and she hated him.
She hated that shedidn’thate him.
Panting into the dim room around them, Grant backed away and pulled out of her, and she bit her lip again to keep from crying out as pain started to spread through her as the adrenaline and dopamine began to abate. Her arms ached. Her wrists were sore. Her pussy was throbbing with the need to come and with how rough he’d been. Her pride was torn to shreds. Her heart… well, that lay tattered and beaten in her chest. She didn’t move, just continued to lay face down on the desk, her ass and pussy still bared to him.
She felt used, and not in the good way. Not like Chicago. This was nothing like Chicago.
The panties binding her wrists were removed, and she dropped her aching arms onto the desk. Her underwear landed on the desk next to her in an unceremonious heap and she staredat them through tear clouded eyes. Shaking uncontrollably, the tears continued to track down her cheeks, but she refused to reach up to swipe them away. She wouldn’t give him that satisfaction, even if it killed her. Because right now it felt like it just might.
She heard the rustling of his clothes as he tucked himself back into his pants and then the zipper as it closed. “Get the fuck out of my restaurant.”
The swish of the door opening, his heavy footsteps, and then the click of the door as it closed behind him reverberated through her mind like a gunshot. Pushing herself up with shaky arms, she sucked in shuddering breaths. Reaching up, she finally swiped at the tears marring her face. He’d warned her. God, he’d warned her.
Her ass was on fire, and she was sure she would find angry red handprints later. The ones he’d left on her in Chicago had disappeared within a few hours. These… she didn’t think these would go away quite so quickly. Struggling to stand on her shaking legs, she managed to pull her panties back on, then smoothed the skirt down her legs.
Using her fingers, she attempted to tame the mess he’d made of her hair, then gave up. She just prayed she wouldn’t run into any remaining employees on her way out.
Pulling the door open, she glanced out and when she felt the coast was clear, snuck down the hallway to the main part of the restaurant. She didn’t trust going out the back entrance, sure that either Grant or Van would be there. The central part of the building was dark, most of the lights turned off for the night. She checked the door to make sure it latched and locked on her way out. Breathing a sigh of relief when she made it outside with no one seeing her, she thanked every lucky star in the night sky as they winked above her. She needed to escape before Van found her.
Wrapping her arms around her middle, she sniffled as tears started again, the damn things. Turning up the sidewalk, she stumbled when she heard, “Hope? How’d it go?”
Her shoulders dropped and she made a quarter turn, just barely enough to see him.No…He was going to hate her, just like Grant did. He was leaning against one of the exterior walls ofThe Wine Garden, a cigarette glowing in his hand. When the light from the streetlight above her landed on her face, he took a step toward her, but she held up her hand and backed away.
“Wait, Hope, where are you going?” he asked in confusion, taking another step toward her.
“Please, just leave me alone,” she whispered miserably. Her heart was shattered, the shards of her heart lancing through her, cutting everything inside until there was nothing left but shreds. Taking a deep breath, she cursed the tears that wouldn’t stop. Gesturing toward the building, where Grant was somewhere inside, she whispered brokenly, “I’m so sorry, Van. I can’t… I can’t do this. I can’t do that again.”
“Wait,Hope—” he called, taking another step toward her, his face pulling into one of shock and worry.
“Please just let me go,” she begged, backing away as he continued forward. If he touched her, she would break, and the mess her heart had made inside would spill out of her. Her chest ached, as if her heart had been pulled from her body and set on fire, then trampled. Van flicked the cigarette down to the pavement and stepped on it, striding toward her. Still, she backed away, up the gently sloping sidewalk. He caught up to her, bracketing her face in his hands. He tilted her face up so she was forced to look at him and she tried to shake her head. “Please, Van. Just let me go.”
