Black(4)

His heavy hand clasped with my own, leaving me feeling oddly protected and calm. Why was he doing this? Why was I letting him?

“Help me put away the rest of these books.” On another breath, he was gone, the air absent of his protection, my mind reeling from his simple touch, my body burning up.

“Sure,” I stuttered, trying to get my bearings. I stumbled my way to the circulation desk and found my application in the trash and a stack of books in his arms that need shelving. “You’re throwing my application away? Please, Maxwell, I need this job. I love books, I am well read. My whole life was spent in the library. I am a hard worker and very dependable,” I rambled in desperation.

“Got everything I need.” His eyes sparkled and his beautiful lips twinged with a smile before he adjusted the collar of his crisp shirt. My eyes cast on the bronzed hollow of his throat, over the sharp edge of his clavicle, down, down to the bronze dusting of hair layered brazenly across his muscled pectorals. Being in the same room with Maxwell Black was a disastrous distraction. “You were the only applicant anyway, so I didn’t have much of a selection.”

I found my lips turning up on their own. This was my salvation, my escape. “I will take that as a compliment.”

“It wasn't meant to be one. If I were giving you a compliment, beautiful Elle, you’d know it.” He paused and then moved his body behind me. “You’d feel it here,” he whispered at the nape of my neck and left shivers trailing down my body from his mere breath. “Definitely here.” His fingertips danced at the back of my thighs, inching higher by the centimeter before backing away again. “You’ll know when I want you.” His tone fell another octave and rumbled straight into my stomach, twisting my insides and coiling my core into a tightly wound spring.

“Who says I want you?” I hummed, my confidence weak in his presence. It was his turn to laugh as a belly chuckle filled the small space. I was determined not to show weakness. Men never protected. All this was a mirage and I was so thirsty.

“We’ll see about that.” He followed closely behind me as I turned down the fiction aisle and shelved a Rebecca Du Maurier classic. “And, Elle?” His sexy voice singsonged; he was playful all of a sudden. “I like the chase. When you are ready, you will like it too.” I nearly dropped the remaining books at my feet before I opened my eyes and he was gone again, his tall burly figure already rounding the corner of the stacks.

Damn him. I wanted him more than I’d ever wanted anything. But I knew with every beat of my heart he would be nothing but bad for me. How could a man like that be good for anybody? And on top of all that, the scar. Whatever had happened to him hadn’t been pretty, yet a part of me wanted to find out. Maxwell intrigued me and normally I was too frightened to be intrigued.

So I lifted my chin in the air and followed Maxwell, determined to stay in his good graces and keep this job. My life depended on it.





Three

Maxwell

I woke the next morning; sweet little Elle and her curvy assets had been running through my dreams all night. I tossed my arm over my eyes to block the morning light before feeling my cock flex and jump beneath the cotton sheets. I needed a cold shower; either that or I was going to have to rub one out before heading down to the library in an hour. Being with her all day would be nearly torture. And Christ, I was supposed to teach her, be close to her, talk to her when all I wanted to do consume her, ravage her, fuck her until she forgot her own name.

My eyes cast across my room to land on the old wooden chair next to the door. My eyes fell on the violet scarf I’d found on the coat rack last night after Elle had left. Her scarf. Her scent. Her. The beast in me growled and before I could think twice, I was on my feet and sauntering naked across the room, my hands clasping the scarf as if I were an addict with a last hit of heroin.

I brought the soft garment to my nose and inhaled. Fresh rain, a hint of vanilla, and strawberries. Not the packaged kind available all year long at the corner store grocery mart, but real strawberries, sun-drenched and picked fresh from the field. I inhaled the enthralling scent, remembering the feel of her under my fingers last night. I was desperate to feel more of her.

My cock stood heavy, my balls hanging low between my thighs before I did the unthinkable and wrapped the pretty purple scarf around my thick cock, feeling the fibers grate against the sensitive tip. Her fresh strawberry scent wrapped around my dick and invaded my nostrils. I pumped once, then twice, before bracing my other hand on the wall, my fist flexing as I began to pump my length with more vigor.