WHAT I WANT (BOOK ONE)

HANNAH FORD
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Copyright

What I Want (What I Want, Book One)

WHAT I WANT

What He Wants (What He Wants, Book One)

What He Wants (What He Wants, Book One)
Copyright © 2016 by Hannah Ford

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WHAT I WANT (WHAT I WANT, BOOK ONE)
 WHAT I WANT

PL EA SE N OTE: THIS IS WHA T HE WA N TS ( BOOK ON E) TOL D F ROM N OA H’ S POV.

YOU D O N OT N EED TO HA VE REA D THE WHA T HE WA N TS SERIES TO UN D ERSTA N D
IT.

N OAH
I WANTED to fuck her as soon as I saw her. That curvy little body was all tarted up in a tight little black
dress, and those nice round tits were practically spilling out the top. Her dark hair fell in loose curls
around her shoulders, and she sipped on a drink, her full pink lips pretty and pouty and just made for
sucking my dick.
I sat at the bar and watched her for a while, biding my time. She was at some kind of party –
bachelorette from what I could tell, and it was almost enough to put me off the whole idea. Women at
bachelorette parties were a particular kind of crazy, one I wasn’t sure I wanted to deal with.
A couple of blond women at the other end of the bar were staring at me, and I tried not to
encourage them by making eye contact. Not that it was difficult. I couldn’t stop staring at that shapely
little vixen on the other side of the room. Her dress hit just below the knee, and when she turned
around, giving me a view of that gorgeous round ass, my cock got hard.
I was so transfixed that I didn’t realize one of the blondes had made her way over to me.
“Don’t I know you from somewhere?” she tried. I almost sighed out of boredom, but that was too
rude, even for me.
“I doubt it,” I said, although it was entirely possible that she did know me from somewhere.
Thankfully, I knew I probably hadn’t slept with her. She wasn’t my type – too blond, too skinny, too
much like a Barbie.
“No, I know I recognize you.” She motioned to her friend, another bottled blonde, to come over.
“Alexa, isn’t this Noah Cutler?”
Apparently she didn’t think it would make more sense to just ask me if I was Noah Cutler. I took a
sip of my drink and resisted the urge to roll my eyes.
From across the room, I watched as the curvy bombshell made her way to a table all by herself,
peeling herself off from the rest of the party.
“Yes!” the blonde’s friend said. “You gave that speech at my graduation last year. I absolutely
loved it.”
“I’m glad,” I lied. I didn’t give a shit if she loved my speech or not. College was bullshit, the kind
of thing people thought they needed, when really, I hadn’t learned anything in college that I couldn’t
have learned on my own.
 I drained the rest of my drink and concentrated on the brunette. She turned toward me, pushing her
hair back from her face, and I was struck again by her beauty. She happened to look up just at that
moment, and our eyes met.
She turned away quickly, embarrassed.
I had to have her.
And then, just like that, I saw my opening.
Some dickhead guy was making his way over to her. Jealousy and possessiveness flooded me.
She was mine. And I was going to make sure I had her tonight.
“Excuse me,” I said to the blondes.
And then I went to go claim my prize.
“No, wait,” one of the women said. She reached for my arm. “Buy me a drink? If you do, I’ll
make sure I’ll make it worth your while.
Her blue eyes were alight.
I wondered what she would think if she knew the truth about me, if she knew how rough I was,
how demanding. If she knew that if I brought her home with me, I would have no interest in having sex
with her, that instead I would want to fuck her and lash her with my belt.
It didn’t matter.
I had no interest in her.
I turned my back, not bothering her to answer, and made my way across the bar.
My prize was sipping a drink, something that looked fruity and girly and fucking ridiculous. I
couldn’t stop staring at her mouth – her lips were full and lush, perfect for dick sucking.
The man who had approached was talking to her now, and my hands tightened in possessiveness. I
hated him being close to her, hated the way he was looking at her body. Hated that he probably
thought that since she was curvy and lush that he would have a chance.
She was beautiful, her body made for fucking. And this idiot wouldn’t understand that.
I watched as they had an exchange. She said something he obviously didn’t like, and the asshole
reached out, took the drink from her hand, and poured it on the floor. Then he put his arm around her.
Rage pulsed through my veins, hard and hot and intense.
Mine.
“Leave her alone,” I growled as I lunged at him, my hand tightening around the back of his shirt.
He stumbled for a few steps, almost hitting the table behind us, then readjusted his suit coat.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he demanded.
I gave him a look, the kind of look that had earned my reputation as the best lawyer in the city, the
kind of look that told him I would beat the shit out of him if he didn’t go the fuck away. It wasn’t an
empty threat. Something had ignited in me, something primal and raw. Something that made me want
to protect this woman, and not let anyone touch her except for me.
The man scurried back to his friend, like the rat that he was, and I turned back to the girl.
“You okay?” I asked her.
“I’m fine.” Up close, she was even more gorgeous than I’d first thought. Her skin was smooth and
creamy, and I had an image of her down on her knees, my dick exploding on her, my cum splashing all
over her face.
She was probably five-eight or five-nine, but I was six-three, and I towered over her. She seemed
small and delicate next to me, and I wanted to wrap my hands around her throat until I left marks.
“What were you drinking?” I asked her instead.
“Um, vodka and cranberry.” She blushed. She was cute when she blushed. I wanted her to turn
around so I could get another look at her ass.
I reached my hand up and motioned for the cocktail waitress, then ordered two Manhattans.
“Oh, no” the girl tried. “I’ll just have a – ”
“It’s good to try new things,” I said, cutting her off.
“I try new things.” Her tone was defensive, leading me to believe that she didn’t try new things.
Those who were adventurous didn’t feel the need to run around advertising how adventurous they
were.
She was still blushing and she glanced down shyly.
Jesus, I needed to spank her until that nice ass of hers was raw and aching.
I let my eyes run up her body, lingering on her tits. They probably looked even bigger once she
didn’t have a bra on, once her nipples were nice and hard, once I’d sucked them until they were raw.
She shifted on her chair. I loved that I was making her uncomfortable. Loved that her pussy was
probably wet.
“You here by yourself?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer.
“No.” She swallowed. “Bachelorette party.”
“Fun,” I said dryly. My eyes landed on her wrist. She was wearing a candy bracelet, an elastic
string covered with pastel-colored round candies. “What’s with that?”
“Oh,” she said. “It’s … it’s kind of game. You know, for the party.” She still seemed
uncomfortable as she waved her hand, indicating her friends out on the dance floor. But I didn’t want
to look at them. I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
“And?” I prompted.
“And what?”
“And what are you supposed to do with it?” My need to touch her was impossible to control. I
reached out and tugged on the bracelet. The elastic zinged back and hit her wrist, and she shifted on
her seat again, due to the surprise of my gesture. The way she flinched from the pain sent a pulse of
arousal to my cock.
“It’s too embarrassing to mention.”
“Try me.”
The waitress returned with our drinks, and I handed one off to my sweet little innocent. She took it
hesitantly, and my knuckles tightened around my glass, so hard I was afraid I was going to break it.
Her hesitation and reluctance at everything made me want to push her to her knees and switch her
with a cane.
“Well,” she said, “We’re supposed to get different men to bite one of the candies off, and then
have them sign our arms.”
“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“I know.” She shrugged. “But how could I really say no? Everyone else was doing it.”
“Do you always do things just because everyone else is doing them?” I didn’t wait for her to
answer. I couldn’t wait to touch her skin again, and I reached out and took her bracelet, turning it over
to inspect her wrist. “You don’t have any signatures.” My finger slid over her pulse point, then moved
slowly up her elbow.
She took a sip of her drink, grimacing at the burn of the whiskey.
I moved my hand back down to her wrist and then raised it slowly to my mouth. I bit one of the
candies off the bracelet, enjoying her taste, my tongue flicking against her skin. I wanted to bite her,
but she was like a deer in the headlights, so soft, so innocent, that I didn’t want to scare her.
I picked the pen up off the table where the waitress had left our bill, and drew a big X on her arm,
marking her as mine.
“There,” I said.
“You’re supposed to sign your name.”
“But that would ruin the mystery.” I let my eyes linger on her again, and I was about to tell her my
name and ask for hers, ending this charade, but then the shock of something unexpected, something
unfamiliar, pulsed through me.
Fear.
Up until now, I’d been imagining her down on her knees, but now, suddenly, I had the thought that I
would – metaphorically, of course – be the one brought to my knees by her. She was exquisite and
perfect, and the tightening in my chest spurred on by my need to have her was shocking in its intensity.
For the first time, I had the overwhelming sense that I should leave her alone, that she was too
young, too pure, too untouched. If I brought her into my world, all I would do was sully her.
“Charlotte! What are you doing over here all by yourself!” A girl appeared at our table, one of the
other partygoers.
Charlotte.
Charlotte was her name.
Charlotte.
It fit her perfectly. It was sweet and sexy at the same time.
“Oh,” the interloper said when she saw me. “I didn’t realize you had company.” She held her hand
out. “I’m Cora.”
Annoyance flamed inside of me. In that moment, I hated this woman, this Cora for showing up and
interrupting my conversation with Charlotte.
My annoyance was unnerving, and that, coupled with the rush of emotion I’d felt at hearing her
name, made the urge to flee roar through me like a lion. I needed to get the fuck out of there.
“I was just leaving.” I tossed down the rest of my drink, then returned to the bar.
The blondes were still there, and I flirted with them a bit, desperate for a distraction.
But I couldn’t have been less interested. The blondes were objectively beautiful, but the whole
time, I was watching her.
Finally, I forced myself to leave the bar, hoping that some distance would help quell the
uncomfortable feeling of possessiveness inside of me.
But I couldn’t get her out of my mind.
It was like she’d crawled under my skin, like she’d invaded my soul.
I ducked into a coffee shop across the street and stood by the window, watching, waiting for her
to come out of the bar.
After a few moments, a twenty-something kid with spiked blonde hair approached me. “Can I help
you with something, sir?” he asked.
“No.” I was short and curt, annoyed that he was trying to distract me from the task at hand.
“Um, do you want… I mean, do you want to order something? If you do, we can help you at the
counter.” His tone was polite, but I knew what he meant. I needed to order something, or they
wouldn’t allow me to stay.
I turned and saw the employees behind the counter staring at me, wondering what I was doing
here in my expensive suit, staring out the window, watching the bar across the street.
I rolled my eyes and ordered a stupid drink, some bullshit coffee that I held in my hand and didn’t
drink, while I stayed glued to the plate glass window. I made a note to call tomorrow and inquire
about the coffee shop – maybe I would buy it and fire them all. Or better yet, make them work harder
and get their shit together. The décor in here was hideous, and I couldn’t imagine their profit margins
were what they could be, given the fact that there were six people working in here and barely any
customers.
Five more minutes, I told myself. Five more minutes, and if she didn’t come out, I would leave.
I was still there half an hour later, my coffee cold in my hand, when she emerged.
There was a soft breeze and it pushed her hair across her face.
I wanted to kiss her mouth, wrap that hair around my hand and yank. Hard.
I hurried out of the coffee shop and followed her down the sidewalk, catching up until I fell
stepped into lockstep next to her. She quickened her stride, without realizing it was me, and her
skittishness caused the blood to rush to my dick. She was so innocent, so primed for direction.
Finally, she looked over at me, the look on her face hesitant, her eyes wide. My cock hardened
even more as I imagined her down on her knees, a ball gag stuffed into her mouth, her hands tied
behind her back, the rope leaving marks on her delicate skin.
I wanted to bruise her, make her pussy ache.
“Hello,” I said.
“Hi.” Her voice was sweet, hesitant. But her cheeks flushed from excitement.
“Didn’t feel like continuing the party?” I asked her, forcing cheer into my voice.
“No. I, um, have to be up early tomorrow.”
“On a Saturday?”
“Yes.”
We turned the corner onto a side street, and the crowd began to thin out. There were no bars or
restaurants in this area, and most of the retail stores were closed.
As she walked, her tits bounced slightly under the thin fabric of her dress. I towered over her, and
from my vantage point, I could see just slightly down the front of her dress. That, along with her
innocence, and the mark I could still see on her wrist, the X I’d written, made me the slight grip I’d
been keeping on my control.
I grabbed her roughly, pulling her into a space between the buildings.
“What are you doing?” she asked as I pushed up against her. Her body felt just as I’d imagined.
Soft and full and lush, ready for fucking. She tried to push me away, but it only served to make my
cock harder. I wanted her to struggle – it would make it that much better when she finally succumbed.
She resisted me more, and I pushed into her again, hard. I could feel it building, my need for her.
Stop. You’ll hurt her if you keep going, you’ll push her too far.
I took a few steps back, suddenly afraid of what I would do to her, the amount of pain I could
inflict on her tight little body if I didn’t get control of myself.
“If you want to go, go,” I said. But I knew she wasn’t going anywhere, or I wouldn’t have said it.
Her breath was coming in short gasps, and I could see the outline of her hard nipples popping like
two buttons through her dress. If she tried to run, I would catch her.
I took a moment to steady myself. I hadn’t had this kind of reaction to a woman in… well, how
long it had been, if ever, made the red lights of emergency flash in my mind.
I tried to calm myself, knowing that if I rushed her too soon, I would be way too rough. And yet I
wanted to annihilate her pussy, to bruise her, whip her, teach her to be mine. And yet at the same time,
I felt this overwhelming urge to protect her, mostly from myself.
Our gazes were locked, and I could tell she knew she should run.
I moved back toward her, not able to take it anymore.
I grabbed her shoulders and ran my hands down her arms, over the X I’d drawn there earlier. She
was branded, and seeing it made the tenuous grip I had on my self-control loosen even more.
“Right now,” I told her. “You are mine.”
I brought my lips to hers. The kiss was like nothing I’d ever experienced before. Her lips were
soft, her mouth hesitant as I pushed my tongue inside. She let me take immediate control, setting the
pace, controlling the pressure of our tongues against each other. I French kissed her, my tongue
probing her mouth, exploring, tasting.
Her body relaxed, the fight zapping out of her as her hard nipples brushed against my chest.
I needed to see those big tits of hers, needed to have them out and unfettered, needed to know
what her nipples looked like.
I grabbed her right hand, and I felt her tense up, so I pushed it up over her head, pinning her to the
wall of the building. I repeated the process with her left hand.
She was no match for my strength, and I was able to hold her wrists easily with just one hand,
pushing hard, hoping she would have scratches on the back of her knuckles from the rough brick.
With my free hand, I yanked hard on her dress, pulling it down over her tits. Her curves were
encased in a lacy little bra, the cups molded to her skin. I groped her through the material, loving the
way she felt under me, how innocent and helpless.
I traced my fingertip over her nipple, and she moaned.
“Shhhh,” I commanded, pressing my finger to her lips. “Quiet.”
She bit her bottom lip and kept quiet, showing me could take an order. I wondered what else I
could force her to do, how far she would let me take things. The urge to pull my belt off and lash her
bare ass with it pulsed through me. My hands tightened on her wrists, and I was this close to pushing
her to knees and lashing her, hard, but I stopped myself.
Don’t hurt her.
The need to protect her wrestled with my need to dominate her.
My cock was rock hard, and I needed the release, needed to come in her, on her, needed to fuck
her before I did something I would regret.
I turned her around so that she was facing the building, then pushed her up against the wall until
her cheek hit the coarse brick.
Her hands were still above her head, and I reached up and grabbed the candy bracelet around her
wrist. I pulled the elastic band into a figure eight, and slipped the loop around her other wrist,
effectively tying her hands together.
I tugged tightly on the elastic, using it to hold her in place.
My other hand reached down and pushed up her dress. I pulled her panties to the side. Her tight
little pussy was already wet, just as I’d imagined it to be, and the sheer fabric of her panties clung to
her pussy lips.
“My God,” she gasped as the night air hit her bare pussy.
My cock twitched at her disobedience – I’d told her to be quiet -- and I resisted the urge to spank
her hard on the ass, to tug her hair, or to push her to the ground and shove my cock down her throat.
I slid a finger into her tight pussy, and she clenched around me. “You’re wet for me. You’ve been
wet for me since I drew that X on you, haven’t you?” I pulled the makeshift rope around her wrists
tighter. “Weren’t you?”
“Yes,” she managed.
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, I was wet for you since you drew on me at the bar.”
Her back was arched, and I looked down at her hot little ass. It was curvy and perfect, and I
couldn’t take it another second. I needed to fuck her before I exploded.
“I’m going to fuck you now,” I breathed into her ear. And then I pushed into her, past the
resistance of her snug pussy, my rock hard cock filling her in one full stroke. She tried to push back, to
take me inside of her, and I but he grabbed the bracelet and pulled her arms back, shoving my body up
against hers, letting her know that I was in charge.
I fucked her hard, in and out, faster and faster, making her take every inch of me.
The whole time I was looking at her ass, watching it bounce, watching my cock as it thrust in and
out. She was so wet, and soon my shaft was covered in her juices. I knew she was turned on because
of how rough I was being with her. And yet I was so restrained, knowing she wouldn’t be able to take
what I really wanted to do to her.
Her pussy began to clench harder on my dick.
“Come for me,” I commanded, and no sooner were the words out of my mouth then she did come
for me, her pussy tightening around my cock.
I gave her three more pumps until I felt myself explode inside of her, and I held her tight to me as I
got off inside of her, making her take every shot of my cum, filling her with it.
I held her up against the wall for another moment before releasing her. There were marks on her
wrists where the elastic of the bracelet had cut into her delicate skin. The sight of it made the blood
rush back to my dick. And yet pulsing underneath that need was something even more disturbing, at
least to me – the idea that I wanted to wrap my arms around her, take her back to my apartment, and
tuck her into my bed.
I brushed her my hair to the side and kissed her softly on the back of the neck.
“What’s your name?” I asked her, unable to stop myself. I knew her name, but I wanted to hear her
say it, as if it made her more real somehow, as if it made her more mine.
“Charlotte. Charlotte Holloway.”
“Charlotte,” I repeated the word in wonder.
Then I summoned my strength and left her.

I COULD STILL FEEL her on me, could still feel her pussy snug around my dick.
I needed to distract myself, needed to get her out of my head.
I went for a run, my legs pumping as my sneakers hit the sidewalks of New York, but it didn’t
help. Nothing helped.
Back at my apartment, under the spray of the shower, all I could think about was her.
Her tits, her hair, her voice, the way her ass bounced while I fucked her.
Her pussy had been so tight, and I’d bet her ass was even tighter. I imagined how it would feel to
slide into it, spreading her around me.
I fisted my cock, jerking myself as I thought about her smooth skin, the backs of her creamy thighs,
the sounds she would make if I buried my face between her legs.
When I came, I imagined her laid out on the bed, her body red and raw from the whip of a cane, a
belt, my hand.
I imagined standing beside her, her breath coming quickly, the effort of her arousal making her tits
jiggle as I exploded over her, covering her light brown areolas with ropes of sticky cum.
When my shower was over, I dressed, but my release was short lived. I still felt restless.
I paced around my apartment, ending up at my laptop, where I googled her name. I was just about
to click on her facebook page when my phone rang.
I checked the caller ID, feeling extremely impatient.
Colin Worthington.
My lawyer.
I sent the call to voicemail, but my phone immediately rang again.
I sighed. “Cutler,” I barked into the receiver.
“Noah,” Colin said.
“What do you want, Colin? It’s late.” I clicked on her page. Dammit. It was private, accessible to
friends only. I didn’t have my own facebook page, and if I did I sure as hell wasn’t going to try to
friend her. I didn’t have time for such nonsense.
“Were you sleeping?” Colin asked.
“No.” My tone was short, but I didn’t care. I opened up the google search bar and typed in her
name. But there were a million Charlotte Holloways. Perhaps my private investigator would have
better luck.
“There’s no easy way to say this…” Colin said.
“Just spit it out.”
“Dani DeClair.”
“What about her?” My stomach clenched. Dani was an ex-girlfriend. Well, an ex sub. I didn’t do
the girlfriend thing.
“She’s dead. They found her body a couple of hours ago.”
My hand tightened around the phone, and I did everything I could to make sure that my voice was
devoid of any emotion. Emotions would not serve me well right now.
“And?”
“And they think you did it. At least, according to my source at the police station.”
“So?” It was to be expected. Dani was a nice girl, but the kinds of things we’d done together
definitely weren’t…. mainstream.
“So? So you could be arrested for murder, Noah.”
Again I struggled to keep my grip on my emotions.
“The police will want to talk to you. We should plan what you’re going to say, we should
strategize.”
“Whatever.”
“We should meet tonight.”
“I’m busy tonight.”
“Noah, come on –”
I sighed. “Fine. What do you want to do?”
“Let me get some students on this, let me get them to come up with some questions we might be
asked, pull some case law. I’ll start putting together a team. I can come over and --”
“I’ll need to meet them.” Colin was a law professor, one of those do-gooder types who was
always trying to give back. He always wanted to put students on cases so they could get real word
experience or some bullshit.
“Who?”
“The students.”
“They’re just students, Noah, they’re –”
“I’ll need to meet them.”
“When?”
 “Tonight.” As much as I didn’t want to deal with this, I knew I had to. If the police found out
that… well, that was a place I didn’t want to go. And meeting some stupid law students would
hopefully clear my mind. “Send them to my office. I’ll meet them there in an hour.”
“But –”
“Goodbye, Colin.”
I hung up the phone and called my driver.

I WENT to the office and ninety minutes later, the students arrived.
The first one was an idiot named Josh. He tried to act cocky in an effort to make up for his
obvious insecurity and incompetence. If this was the best that our law schools had to offer, then our
country was in big trouble.
I asked him a few questions, going along with the ridiculous charade, hen sent him on his way.
A few moments later, there was a tentative knock on the door. I was a big believer in the fact that
a knock could tell you as much about someone as a handshake. A weak, tentative knock was as bad as
a limp, ineffectual handshake.
“Come in,” I called, bored.
And then suddenly, there she was, in my doorway.
Charlotte. Charlotte Holloway. It was if I’d dreamed her to life, as if my wishes and thoughts
about her had brought her here to me.
I didn’t believe in signs, but fuck if this wasn’t insane.
My breath caught in my chest at her beauty. I hadn’t imagined it, the way I felt about her. She was
just as gorgeous, just as pure as I remembered.
She walked toward my desk carefully. She looked nervous. She’d changed since I’d seen her, into
a black skirt that showed off her shapely legs, and a white blouse. She’d buttoned it to the top, as if
that would do something to hide her huge tits.
If she became mine, I would dress her in all kinds of deliciously slutty outfits, outfits that showed
off her tits and ass, outfits that allowed me access to that snug little cunt of hers.
“Your name?” I asked. I leaned back in my chair and tried to keep my pulse rate under control as
she took a seat in front of my desk. I hadn’t been planning on pretending I didn’t know her. But that
need inside of me, the need to protect her, was winning out over the other part of me, the part that
wanted to spank her until she screamed. It was a way for me to keep me from losing control and
taking out my need for domination on her body.
She cleared her throat and tugged at the bottom of her skirt. “Mr. Cutler, I think we… I just want
you to know that –”
“What. Is. Your. Name?” I growled.
“Charlotte.” Her face burned with humiliation.
“Well, Charlotte,” I said. “I’m sure Worthington has briefed you on my case?”
“Not… I mean, he just told us you might be charged with murder.”
Good. The less she knew about me and the things I had done, the better. “Yes.” I nodded. “And I
can count on your complete discretion as it pertains this matter?” And anything else I might do to
you? I wanted to add, but didn’t.
“Yes. Yes, of course.”
“Good.” I stood up and walked around to the front of the desk. I sat down on the edge so that I
was mere inches from where she was sitting. I didn’t say anything for a moment, and she looked down
at the floor and twisted her hands in her lap. “Stop fidgeting,” I commanded. Her hands settled. “Look
me in the eye.”
She looked at me, and I remembered the taste of her mouth on mine.
“I have your discretion?” I repeated again.
“Yes.” I nodded.
“In all things?”
She hesitated, the confusion clouding her eyes. She wasn’t sure if I was talking about the case, or
about what we’d done, but she must have been hungry to get into Colin Worthington’s good graces,
because she nodded. “Of course.”
“Good.” I reached out and took her hand, inspecting her wrist. The X I’d marked her with was
still there. It was just the start. There were dirtier words I could write on her, dirtier things I could do
to her than what we’d done in the alley. Submissive. Bad. Slut.
As if she could read my dirty thoughts, she tried to pull her hand back from mine, but I gripped her
tighter, not allowing her out of my grasp. “You left the X.”
“I didn’t have a chance to wash it off,” she said defiantly. It was an excuse. She wanted it on her,
and we both knew it. I traced a slow circle over her pulse point, and I could feel how fast it was, how
turned on she was, how nervous and intimidated.
“That means you’re still mine.”
“Oh.” She tried to take her wrist back, and this time, I let her “I…”
But I was over the niceties and the pretending. Her body was too ripe, too perfect, too innocent.
“Stand up, please.”
She stood up without asking questions, almost like she was on autopilot. It boded well for our
future, the fact that she could take direction so well, that she was so willing to do what I wanted. My
eyes raked up her body, desperate to bruise her.
“Bend over.”
“Excuse me?”
I stood up and began to roll up my sleeves. “Bend over the desk, please,” I repeated.
“Mr. Cutler,” she said, and her hands twisted in front of her. She was flustered, and I loved it. “I
don’t… that wouldn’t be appropriate.”
“Now you’re worried about being appropriate, Ms. Holloway?” I asked her incredulously. I
stepped toward her, so close that my lips were almost against hers. “After what we did earlier?”
“That was.. that was different.”
She took a step back from me, but I pushed forward. “How?” I asked.
“That was before I was working for you.”
“You’re not working for me yet,” I said simply. “I still have to call Worthington to let him know
I’m comfortable with you.” It was borderline blackmail, extortion -- definitely sexual harassment. But
my need for her was clouding my brain.
My eyes widened in shock at her brazenness. Her breathing quickened, and she took in a deep
breath, as if she was steadying herself.
“I won’t be working for you, Mr. Cutler,” she said finally, squaring her shoulders. “Thank you for
your consideration. Good luck with your case.”
She turned and walked out of the room.
I was stunned at her resolve.
But all it did was make me want her more. It would make it that much more sweet.
 I thought about chasing her and dragging her back into my office by her hair, but I thought that
might be going too far.
I picked up the phone and sent the car away, the one I knew was waiting to take her home.
Hopefully it would take that useless Josh person with it.
Then I called Colin Worthington.
“Noah,” he said when he answered.
“I want her on the case.”
“Who?”
“Charlotte.” Her name alone made my dick hard.
“Charlotte Holloway?”
“Yes. I’ll need her phone number, her email. I want her available to me 24/7.”
“And Josh?”
My jaw clenched at the thought of that asshole being around Charlotte, working with her, watching
her, letting his eyes linger on that delicious round ass of hers. “No.”
“But he’s –”
“Charlotte’s phone number, please,” I barked.
Worthington rattled off the number.
“Please let her know immediately she will need to clear her schedule for my case.”
I ended the call with Worthington, then took my suit jacket off the back of my chair and slid it on. I
waited for a few minutes, letting him call her and break the news that she would be in charge of me,
then dialed her number. She couldn’t have gotten far, and I strode out of my office and into the
elevator.
“Hello?” Her voice was sweet, that same lilt of hesitation woven through it.
“Charlotte.”
“How did you get this number?” she demanded, and it pleased me that she recognized my voice.
“I’ve heard you’ve been tasked with the job of making sure I don’t get into trouble,” I said
smoothly, as if I’d had nothing to do with it. The elevator doors opened and I stepped into the lobby. I
could see her outside, standing on the sidewalk. She was staring down at the ground, her dark hair
falling softly over her face.
“Yes,” she said, sounding prim and proper. “You need to make sure you stay out of this, that you
let Professor Worthington take care of things.”
I walked through the doors and onto the sidewalk. “Oh, good,” I said, hanging up the phone.
“You’re still here.”
“Did you send the car away?” she demanded.
“Yes. That other kid was worthless.”
“Well, thanks,” she said, annoyed. “Now I have no way home.”
“You’re not going home,” I said simply.
“Then where am I going?”
“With me.”
“Where?”
“To my apartment.”
“No.” She shook her head vehemently. “I’m not having sex with you.”
God, she was a spitfire. Her protests were amusing to me, considering the fact that she’d let me
take her pussy in an alley a few hours ago, before she even knew my name. But I decided to play
along. For now.
 “No one said anything about having sex, Charlotte. But you heard Worthington, I need to be
watched. Otherwise I’m going to get myself into trouble.” I watched as she squirmed on the sidewalk,
her lips crinkling. God, she was sexy as fuck. “I’m going to need 24/7 supervision.” And so are you, I
thought.
“That’s impossible,” she said, shoving her chin into the air. “I can’t be around you twenty-four
seven.”
“Why not?” I needed to touch her. I moved closer, reached out and traced a line down her chin,
over her lips, down her collarbone. Her skin was soft and creamy, and I wondered what she would
do if I grabbed her by the back of the neck and kissed her.
Her face flamed, and she shifted on her high heels.
I leaned forward. “Are you thinking about what we did earlier, Charlotte?” I asked her. “Because
I am.”
She shook her head. “No,” she said a little too quickly. “I’m not thinking about what we did
earlier.”
“You’re not?” I pressed. “You’re not thinking about what it felt like to kiss me, how your body felt
against mine, how my hands felt on you?” I moved even closer. “Because I haven’t been able to stop
thinking about it.”
I ran my thumb over her bottom lip, resisting the urge to suck on it.
“Come back to my apartment,” I said. “We can do whatever you want.”
“Whatever I want?” she repeated.
“Promise,” I said. “We’ll do whatever you want.”
She knew it was a lie. We both knew it was a lie.
She was starting to understand that I was the one who made the rules.
But she knew was going to come with me anyway.

WE TOOK my car back to my apartment.

She was quiet on the ride over, contemplative almost.
“I’m not going to sleep with you again,” she reiterated as we took the elevator up to my apartment.
“It would be extremely unprofessional of me.”
“Charlotte,” I said, sighing. “Why do you keep alluding to the fact that we’re going to be sleeping
together? I haven’t said any such thing.” I don’t want to sleep with you. I want to fuck your pretty
little pussy until you’re so sore you can’t walk.
“You said you couldn’t stop thinking about what we did earlier.”
“You mean when I lifted your dress and fucked you in public?” I asked.
“Yes.”
We stepped off the elevator, and stopped outside the door to my apartment. For the first time, I
hesitated. She was in over her head. And as much as I wanted her, as much as I couldn’t control
myself, there were things about me, things I desired and needed that were dark and black and… “Are
you sure you want to do this?” I asked her.
“Do what?”
“Come inside.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
Because I want to whip you and tie you and fuck you until you can’t walk. “Because I’m about
to be arrested for murder,” I settled on.
“Did you do it?” she shot back. Spitfire.
I grinned. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
She rolled her eyes, and my hand twitched, wanting to lay a spank on her ass.
“If you’re saying that, it means you didn’t,” she said.
I unlocked the door and pushed it open.
“Nice place,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant. But I knew my place was amazing. It had high
ceilings and expensive furniture and huge windows that gave an expansive view of the city. The lights
outside twinkled in the darkness, but the view paled in compare to her, to her beauty. I couldn’t take
my eyes off her.
“Thank you. Would you like a drink?”
“No thanks.”
I sat down on the couch.
She sat down on the chair across from me.
“I really want to kiss you again,” I said.
“No kissing,” she said. But she shifted again, this time crossing her legs at the ankles. She
swallowed hard, and I watched her throat move.
“Why not?” I asked mischievously.
“Because you might be a murderer.”
“You really think I murdered someone?”
“I’m not sure,” she said. She pulled at her skirt again, and my cock pulsed, begging to release my
cum all over her. “I don’t know anything about the crime.”
“Worthington didn’t tell you?”
“No.” She shook her head.
“Then you don’t know that I’m probably going to be arrested?”
“I thought you were just a suspect.”
“I’m a suspect because I’m the most likely one who did it.”
“You don’t seem upset.”
“I’m distracted.”
“By what?”
“The way your tits look in that shirt.”
She blushed at my dirty language, and stared down at her hands.
“Will you stand up for me?” I asked her softly. “I want to look at your body.”
She stood up.
“Turn around.”
She turned around, a complete three-sixty and I let my eyes linger on those curves of hers.
“God, you are sexy,” I said. “You’re getting my cock hard just looking at you.”
“Noah,” she said. “This is not … I mean, we really shouldn’t be.”
“Do you want to stop?”
She shook her head no, biting her bottom lip softly.
“Good. Turn around.”
She turned around so that her back was to me. Her ass was encased in that tight little skirt, and I
needed to see more of her curves.
“Now bend over.”
She hesitated, then bent over just the tiniest bit. My hands gripped the sides of the chair. More.
 “All the way,” I commanded. “All the way down and grab your ankles.” She did as she was told,
reaching all the way down and grabbing her ankles. There was no hesitation – she was already
learning to respond to my commands.
Her skirt rose up over that hot ass of hers. She was wearing a black thong, and the globes of her
ass were completely bared to me. I stared at her creamy untouched skin, closing my eyes for a brief
second to steady myself.
The desire to scar her was almost overwhelming.
“You are so fucking sexy,” I rasped. “Come here. Come to me.”
She crossed the room to me, slowly, and I pulled her into my lap. I pushed her skirt up, over the
smooth expanse of her thigh, letting my hand linger on her curves. Her body was so lush, so gorgeous.
I grabbed the back of her head with my free hand and pulled her toward me. “I’m going to fuck
you again, Charlotte,” I pushed my pelvis into her ass, so she could feel how hard my cock was. She
moaned, and the sound made me want to own her body. “This time I’m going to fuck you for a long
time. Do you think you can handle it?”
“Yes,” she breathed.
“Tell me you want me to fuck you.”
“I want you to fuck me,” she said. “Please, I need you to fuck me.”
“Say my name.” I pushed a finger into her mouth and she sucked on it softly. She was a good girl,
her instincts to please me taking over. I couldn’t wait to teach her. She would be a willing student, I
could tell.
“Fuck me, Noah,” she whispered. “Please, I want you to fuck me.” Her voice was soft and
breathy, the look in her eyes so sweet and innocent. Emotion welled up in me, shocking in its
intensity.
I kissed her gently, my tongue moving past her lips and probing her mouth, rubbing against her
tongue.
The kissing was getting her hot, and she tried to grind herself against my dick, aching for relief
from the want building inside of her. But I grabbed her hip. “No,” I said. “You don’t get to control
this. I do. And we’re going to go nice and slow.”
I started unbuttoning her shirt, like she was a present to be unwrapped. The top of her tits spilled
over the cups of her bra, and I ran my finger over her cleavage.
“I’m going to explore every single inch of these hot, sexy curves of yours. Do you understand that,
Charlotte?”
“Yes,” she said shyly.
I stood up, brining her with me, and she wrapped her legs around me instinctually. She felt so tiny
and innocent in my arms, even more so when she buried her face into my shoulder. I inhaled the scent
of her hair and closed my eyes, not able to believe I was going to do this to her, that I was going to put
her through this.
But my need to own her was nothing short of compulsive.
I brought her to my bedroom and laid her down on my bed. She sunk into the sheets, her breath
coming in ragged gasps.
“Are you ready for this, Charlotte?” I asked her, pushing her hair back from her face. I searched
her eyes with mine, looking for any sign that she didn’t want this. She was hesitant, yes, nervous, yes,
maybe even a little scared -- but she wanted it.
“Yes,” she said. “Yes, I’m ready.”
I unbuttoned my shirt, slid my tie off and pushed her hands over her head, tying her to the
headboard with my tie. She was bound now, and the sight of her laid out like that was beautiful.
I groped her body, letting my hands wander over her tits, her hips, her ass.
She was mine to do with as pleased. Bound and totally helpless.
She was in over her head.
I wanted her more than I’d wanted any woman in my life.
But she wasn’t ready for me and the kind of demons that tormented my soul.
I should have left her alone.
But I just couldn’t help myself.

END OF BOOK ONE

Turn the page to read WHAT HE WANTS, this book from Charlotte’s POV.

Or CLICK HERE to read BOOK TWO of the What He Wants Series, told from Charlotte’s POV,
WHAT HE CRAVES

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WHAT HE WANTS (WHAT HE WANTS, BOOK
ONE)

BY HANNAH FORD
 WHAT HE WANTS (WHAT HE WANTS, BOOK ONE)

C HARLOTTE
I SAW the sexy stranger before he saw me.
He was standing in the corner of the bar, two beautiful blond women draped on his arm. One of
the women was bent over, whispering something in his ear, and when she threw her head back and
laughed, he glanced up and met my eye.
I quickly looked away, embarrassed that he’d caught me staring. Men like him – tall, dark hair,
full lips, sexy stubble on his ruggedly handsome face –weren’t interested in women like me. Besides,
I wasn’t here to meet a man. I was here for a bachelorette party.
Not that the party was anything to get too excited about. I hated parties as a rule, and bachelorette
parties were a particularly heinous form of torture. Especially one where I didn’t know anyone but
the bride, who was a fellow law student at Middleton University.
I thought coming to this party might help me meet some of my classmates – Cora seemed to know
everyone in our class -- but all it was doing so far was reminding me how much I hated to socialize.
Oh, and making me realize that Cora, even though she was engaged, apparently subscribed to the
theory that whatever happened at bachelorette parties stayed at bachelorette parties, because she’d
been throwing herself at different men all night. Right now she was out on the dance floor, grinding on
a man wearing plaid dress pants.
I took a sip of my drink – ginger ale with cranberry, my usual, because it made me seem like I was
drinking alcohol even when I wasn’t– and tried to look busy. The last thing I wanted was one of the
party-goers to come over and try to drag me into their dance frenzy.
And then, suddenly, he was by my side.
No, not the sexy stranger I’d been trying to avoid staring at, but another man.
This one was paunchy, slightly balding, and had hairy knuckles.
“Let me buy you a drink, sweetheart,” he slurred. I sighed. Men like him always tried to hit on me.
They thought that since I was considered a “bigger girl” they’d have more of a chance with me. What
they didn’t understand was that just because I was carrying a few extra pounds didn’t mean I was
desperate.
“No, that’s okay,” I said politely. I indicated the drink I was holding. “I already have one.”
He frowned, like he was trying to work out a particularly hard math problem. Then, brightening,
he reached out, took the drink from my hand and poured it onto the floor. “There!” he exclaimed,
proud of himself. “Now you need another one.”
I was so shocked, I wasn’t sure what the appropriate response was. The man leaned in and slung
his arm over my shoulder. “Come on,” he said, his breath smelling of alcohol and garlic. “Lemme buy
you a drink.”
“Leave her alone,” someone growled, and before I knew what was happening, the sexy man from
across the bar had grabbed the back of the pudgy man’s shirt and had tossed him to the side.
“Hey!” the man protested. He stumbled for a few steps, almost hitting the table behind us, then
readjusted his suit coat. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
But my knight in shining armor gave him a menacing look, and after thinking about it, the man
slunk away, back to his to group of friends.
“You okay?” the gorgeous stranger asked. Up close, he was just as sexy, although less polished
than I’d first thought. He wore an expensive suit, but his white shirt was unbuttoned at the top and
rumpled, like he’d spent the day getting into fights instead of behind a desk.
“I’m fine.” My throat had gone dry. This man was big – tall, at least six foot three, with broad
shoulders and huge hands. I was five ten and carried more weight than I probably should have – most
men made me feel big and oafish around them, but this man made me feel tiny. I imagined him
grabbing me with those big hands of his, and heat flooded my core.
“What were you drinking?”
I was way too embarrassed to tell him I was drinking cranberry and ginger ale. “Um, vodka and
cranberry.”
He frowned, like this was unacceptable. He reached his hand up and motioned for the cocktail
waitress. His sleeve slid back for a moment, revealing a beautiful silver watch and a strong-looking
forearm. Not that I was surprised –Cora had chosen this bar precisely because it was supposed to be
height of sophistication. But she must have gotten something wrong, because even though the clientele
did seem sophisticated – mostly young professionals, out after work on a Friday night –a lot of them
were already sloppy drunk. Not this man, though – this man was completely in control of himself and
his surroundings.
The cocktail waitress appeared as if out of nowhere. “What can I getcha?”
“Two Manhattans,” the man said. He set his empty glass down on the waitress’s tray. I didn’t
know what a Manhattan was, but I was pretty sure it had whiskey in it. Whiskey sounded dangerous
and scary, the kind of thing you shouldn’t be drinking unless you had sophisticated tastes and a high
tolerance for alcohol.
“Oh, no,” I tried. “I’ll just have a – ”
But the suited stranger flicked his wrist, sending the waitress away before I could finish.
He turned around and gave me a smile. “It’s good to try new things.”
“I try new things.” My tone was more defensive than I’d meant, but it was kind of a sore spot for
me. I wasn’t known for being adventurous – in fact, the most adventurous thing I’d done lately was
taken a hot yoga class – but this man didn’t know that. He didn’t know anything about me. And yet he
was surveying me with a certain familiarity, like he could tell I was the kind of person who didn’t try
new things. It was unnerving.
The man’s eyes raked up my body, like he was trying to decide what, if anything, he should do
with me. Instantly, I felt self-conscious, and I shifted on my chair. “You here by yourself?” he asked.
“No.” I swallowed. “Bachelorette party.”
“Fun,” he said, sounding like he knew it was anything but. He gestured to the candy bracelet I was
wearing, another one of Cora’s bright ideas. “What’s with that?”
“Oh,” I said, fingering it. “It’s … it’s kind of game. You know, for the party.” I gestured to the
dance floor, where most of the party guests had morphed from dancing to completely over-the-top,
crazy gyrating. Men, sensing their chance to possibly get lucky, had jumped into the mix, creating a
colorful blur of sweaty bodies.
My companion didn’t even turn to look. “And?”
“And what?”
“And what are you supposed to do with it?” He reached out and tugged on the bracelet. His
fingers against my skin sent an electric current flying up my spine. The elastic bracelet zinged back
and hit my wrist.
“It’s too embarrassing to mention.”
“Try me.”
The waitress returned with our drinks, and the man grabbed them off the tray in one fluid motion
and handed one to me. I hesitated. I didn’t usually drink. In fact, I’d just turned twenty-one.
“Well,” I said, taking the glass he was offering. “We’re supposed to get different men to bite one
of the candies off, and then have them sign our arms.”
He laughed. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“I know.” I shrugged. “But how could I really say no? Everyone else was doing it.”
“Do you always do things just because everyone else is doing them?” A brief look of amusement
crossed his face, like he couldn’t imagine doing something just because everyone else was. Then he
reached out and took my arm, turning it over to inspect my wrist. “You don’t have any signatures.” His
finger slid over my pulse point, then moved slowly up my elbow before he finally let go. His hands
weren’t what I would expect from someone wearing such an expensive watch – his fingers betrayed
something else, a hard past or maybe manual labor. They were manly and slightly rough, not the kind
that came from typing briefs all day and dialing an Iphone.
I took a sip of my drink. It was definitely whiskey. Or, at least, what I imagined whiskey to taste
like since I’d never actually had whiskey before. It burned going down, but I was glad. The sensation
kept my mind off what was happening.
The stranger reached out and took my arm again, turning it over gently in his hand before raising it
to his mouth. Then he reached down and slowly, deliciously, bit one of the candies off my bracelet.
His lips were hot and soft, and I felt the quick flick of his tongue against my skin as he took the candy
into his mouth.
Then, with a flourish, he picked the pen up off the table where the waitress had left our bill, and
put a big X on my arm. It was like he was marking me, taking ownership of me, and the thought filled
me with a weird little thrill.
“There,” he said.
“You’re supposed to sign your name.”
“But that would ruin the mystery.” He grinned, and I felt myself melt. I’d never understood how
women could end up hooking up with guys they’d met in bars, but I was shocked to realize that if this
man had asked me to go home with him right now, I would have done it.
“Charlotte! What are you doing over here all by yourself!” Cora’s voice came trilling through the
crowd, and then she appeared at our table. The strapless dress she was wearing was hanging down
over her chest, and you could see the outline of her strapless bra. Cora had a great body – tiny waist,
long legs, perfectly proportioned – but somehow, her clothes never seemed to fit quite right.
“Oh,” she said when she saw the man standing next to me. “I didn’t realize you had company.”
She held her hand out. “I’m Cora.”
I took another sip of my drink as disappointment flooded my body. Now that Cora was here, I
would be left in the dust. I knew it was ridiculous – I’d just met this man, after all. And to be
perfectly honest, I didn’t have time for a relationship, or even a hook-up. I was in my first year of law
school, and it was demanding and crazy – I loved every minute of it, but it didn’t leave me much time
for a personal life.
“I was just leaving,” the man said. He didn’t offer an introduction of his own. In fact, he didn’t
really look at Cora at all. He just drained the rest of his drink, then turned around and returned to the
blondes who’d been patiently waiting for him.
“What a jerk,” Cora said, obviously offended by the fact that the man hadn’t fallen for her charms.
She looked down at my drink and wrinkled her delicate nose. “What are you drinking? Whiskey?”
“Yes,” I said defiantly, and took another sip, even though my throat was still burning from the last
one.
“Well, come on, you need to dance.”
She grabbed my arm and pulled me onto the dance floor, where I spent the next hour dancing and
trying not be obvious about the fact that I was looking for the man who’d drawn an X on my arm. But I
didn’t see him again. He must have left the bar soon after Cora interrupted us.
Finally, at around nine o’clock, I decided that I’d had enough.
I told everyone I had to be up early the next morning, which wasn’t a lie. The library was waiting
for me.
“Are you sure?” Kristin, another girl from our class, asked. She was drunk and slurring her
words. “You should come with us to the next place.” She turned to Cora. “Cora, we’re going to the
next place, right?”
“Yes, in just a minute,” Cora said. She’d found a man with a shaved head who’d eaten a candy off
her bracelet and had decided to sign her ample cleavage instead of her arm as the instructions had
indicated.
I said my goodbyes and slipped out of the bar.
Once on the street, I breathed a sigh of relief. I wasn’t particularly close to those people, and I’d
always had a hard time partaking in small talk. Once you asked someone what they did for a living
and where they lived, what else were you supposed to ask? There was nowhere for the conversation
to go. I was a lot more comfortable in small groups, where people were a little more open.
The city was pulsing with life as people ducked into bars and strolled down the sidewalk,
enjoying the late spring night. In fact, the street was so crowded, that at first I didn’t realize someone
was walking right next to me. I quickened my stride, but he matched his to mine. I glanced over,
annoyed, expecting to see a homeless person, or perhaps a drunken bargoer who would try to engage
me in conversation.
My stomach flipped and my heart jumped into my throat. It was the stranger from the bar. Mr. X.
“Hello,” he said. His voice was smooth, but there was a huskiness to it that I didn’t remember
hearing before.
“Hi,” I said. I swallowed. Part of me was unnerved and a little scared. Obviously this man had
waited outside the bar for me to leave. The other part of me was filled with excitement.
“Didn’t feel like continuing the party?” Mr. X asked me cheerfully.
“No. I, um, have to be up early tomorrow.”
“On a Saturday?” He seemed surprised by this, which didn’t make much sense. With the way he
was dressed, I just assumed he was another lawyer or perhaps worked in finance. He shouldn’t have
been surprised by the fact that I had to be up early on a Saturday.
“Yes.”
My original plan had been to grab a cab and take it back to my apartment. My little studio was
fifteen blocks away, and I wasn’t in the mood to walk that far, even though the night was warm. My
feet were killing me from the heels I was wearing. But now that this man was beside me, I didn’t want
our time together to end. I was willing to keep walking if it meant we could continue our
conversation.
We turned the corner onto a side street, and the crowd began to thin out. There were no bars or
restaurants in this area, and most of the retail stores were closed.
A second later, the man grabbed my hand and pulled me into a space between the buildings.
“What are you doing?” I asked as he pushed his body up against mine. I reached out and tried to
push him away, but he was too strong, his chest rock solid. My nerve endings were on fire, every
sense on high alert as I breathed in his scent, a heady mix of alcohol and cologne.
He didn’t answer, just gave me a devilish grin before taking a few steps back. “If you want to go,
go.” His tone made it clear that he knew I wasn’t going anywhere.
My breath was coming in short gasps.
He licked his lips slowly and then his gaze traveled up my body, like he was trying to decide just
exactly what to do with me.
He didn’t move for what seemed like an agonizingly long time. We just stood there, our gazes
locked on each other. He was biding his time, I could tell, waiting for me to leave, waiting for me to
decide I couldn’t handle whatever it was he was about to do to me. My head was screaming at me to
move, to run, to get away. My body was screaming the opposite. So I stood my ground. And finally,
after what seemed like forever, he took a step back toward me.
He grabbed my shoulders and ran his hands down my arms and over the X he’d drawn there
earlier. He smiled in satisfaction at his branding before raising his eyes back up to meet my gaze.
“Right now,” he rasped. “You are mine.”
And then his lips were on mine. The kiss was like nothing I’d ever experienced before. He tasted
like mint and alcohol. His lips were soft but his skin had a rough stubble, and the difference in
sensations sent a burst of heat through my whole being. My nipples tightened as he pushed his body up
against mine, his tongue probing my mouth.
He broke away, then reached down and grabbed my hand, pulling my right arm up over my head.
He repeated this maneuver with my left arm, until both my hands were above my head and up against
the wall of the building behind me.
He held me there with one hand, and used his other hand to pull down the top of my dress, then
grinned devilishly as he yanked my bra down. My nipples tightened even more as the cold air hit my
skin, and I bit my lip to keep from crying out.
Part of me knew this was wrong, and my brain screamed at me to tell him to stop, to run, to get out
of there. But my body was on fire. I had never wanted someone as much as I wanted this man, right
now, in this moment.
He traced his fingertip over my nipple, and I moaned.
“Shhhh,” he commanded, moving his finger to my lips. “Quiet.”
I was afraid if I made another sound, he would leave, so I bit my lip to keep from moaning again.
He paused for a moment, and then turned me around so that I was facing the building. He pushed
me up against the wall, my cheek hitting the coarse brick.
My hands were still above my head, and he reached up and grabbed the candy bracelet around my
wrist. He pulled the elastic band into a figure eight, and slipped the other loop around my other wrist,
effectively tying my hands together.
He tugged tightly on the elastic, using it to hold me in place.
His other hand reached down and pulled my dress up, and then I felt him pulling my panties to the
side.
“My God,” I gasped before I could stop myself.
His hand grasped my mound, and then he slid a finger inside of me. “You’re wet for me. You’ve
been wet for me since I drew that X on you, haven’t you?”
No one had ever talked to me like this before. It was both exciting and frightening at the same
time. He pulled the makeshift rope around my wrists tighter. “Weren’t you?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, I was wet for you since you drew on me at the bar.”
His mouth was right against my ear, and the delicious tickle of his breath made me shiver. He
undid his pants, and his cock pushed up against me. It was rock hard and felt huge. My heart sped up
at the thought that maybe I wouldn’t be able to take him.
“I’m going to fuck you now,” he breathed into my ear. And then he was inside me, filling me with
one stroke. There was a brief flash of pain, but I was so wet, so turned on, that it only lasted for a
moment before I began to feel pleasure. I tried to push back, to take him inside me as far as he could
go, but he grabbed the bracelet and pulled my arms back, shoving his body up against mine, letting me
know he was in charge.
He fucked me hard, in and out, faster and faster, giving me his entire shaft, harder and harder,
faster and faster, until my body felt as if it was going to ignite.
“Come for me,” he commanded, and no sooner were the words out of his mouth then I did come
for him, my orgasm taking over my whole body, causing me to moan in pleasure.
He kept going, pumping into me, until I felt him come inside me.
He held me up against the wall for another moment before letting my hands go. There were marks
where the elastic of the bracelet had cut into my flesh. My breath was coming in short bursts, my heart
beating so fast I could feel the blood rushing through my body.
Every one of my nerves was on alert, stimulated so intensely it was almost too much to bear.
Mr. X pushed my hair to the side and kissed me softly on the back of the neck.
“What’s your name?” he whispered.
“Charlotte,” I said. “Charlotte Holloway.”
“Charlotte,” he repeated the word, and my name, which had always sounded old-fashioned and
plain, now sounded sexy and dangerous.
A second later, he was gone.

I COULD STILL FEEL his lips on the back of my neck as I walked toward the subway. The air felt
suddenly colder as I stepped onto the platform.
People crowded around me, talking and laughing, most of them in good moods after a night out.
But all I could think about was him.
My face flamed, thinking about what I’d let him do to me. I wondered what everyone on the
subway car would think if they knew I’d just let a stranger take me in a back alley. It was so dirty, so
bad, so out of character from what I would usually do. It wasn’t even a one-night stand! A one-night
stand had to take a whole night.
When I got home, I paused outside my apartment door and said a quick prayer that my roommate
wouldn’t be home. Nicola was an actress and a dancer, and it wasn’t out of the ordinary for her to be
out at night. Her and her theatre friends liked to sleep all day and then stay out all night.
Her schedule suited me fine. I liked having the apartment to myself, liked not having to battle for
the bathroom or worry about noise when I was trying to fall asleep. I’d lucked out when I’d found this
apartment – a lot of my law school classmates had ended up with four roommates or an apartment in a
bad part of town. My apartment was tiny, but it was clean and it was close to campus.
I heated up some ramen noodles and ate them in front of the tv, trying to keep my mind on an
episode of Bill Maher. But I could still only think about him, about what I’d done, his hands on me,
the way he’d branded me. I took a shower but made sure not to wash the X off my wrist. It was the
only memory I had a of him, and I knew it was silly, but I wanted to keep it.
It was midnight when I got into bed, and I tossed and turned for a while until finally falling into a
fitful sleep.
My cell phone woke me a few hours later.
I groped for my phone, my heart pounding. There were only two people who would be calling me
at this time of night – my mom, or Josh.
It was Josh.
“Worthington’s here,” he said. “His office. Seems big.”
“I’ll be right there.”

THIRTY MINUTES LATER, at three-thirty in the morning, I was rushing up the steps of Hinton Hall, heading
for Professor Worthington’s office.
When I got there, Josh was sitting on one of the wooden benches that lined the hallway.
“Nice outfit,” he commented wryly.
I was dressed in a black pencil skirt and a silky white blouse. Worthington was a bit sexist, and if
you wanted to get ahead in his class and you were female, you had to try harder. Which meant you
didn’t show up looking like a slob, not even at three-thirty in the morning.
“What’s the situation?” I asked, ignoring his comment.
“He came in right before I called you. Seemed agitated He had a coffee.”
I nodded.
Worthington taught our intro to torts class, but he was a hotshot lawyer in his own right. He would
sometimes use law students for research or to run grunt work for him on his cases. The experience
was irreplaceable. Worthington was notorious for picking whoever was closest to him to help – he
had his own practice and didn’t seem to have time to choose students based on their merits.
So Josh and I sometimes took turns sitting in the big chairs in the lobby of Hinton, where
Worthington had his office. We’d study and hope that maybe we’d run into Worthington when he had
something going on.
“Was he –”
The door to Worthington’s office flew open.
He saw us standing there, and his face set into a wry smile. “You two,” he said, pointing to us. “I
need you both.”
 “Yes, sir,” I said. My heart sped up and my palms felt twitchy. After just a few weeks in law
school, I was finally going to see some action. I pulled out a notebook and got ready to take notes.
“There’s been a murder,” Worthington said. He drained his coffee then crushed the empty
Starbucks cup in his hand and tossed it toward the trash can in the hallway. It bounced off the rim and
onto the floor. “We have a client, an important one. He hasn’t been arrested yet, but for reasons I
won’t get into, he’s going to be a suspect.” He stared both of us down, and I forced myself not to
move. Worthington was a hotshot lawyer – the kind of lawyer who commanded hundreds of thousands
in fees. Whatever this case was, it was big.
“The client is high profile,” Worthington went on. “He’s insisted on meeting whoever it that’s
going to be working with him.” He stared us all down again, his gaze icy. “Of course I’ll have people
at my office on this. But if he is charged, we’re going to need all the help we can get. Above all, I
need to be assured of your discretion.”
“Of course,” Josh and I said.
“Noah Cutler,” Worthington said, “is the client.”
I forced myself not to have a reaction. But of course I knew who Noah Cutler was. He was a
lawyer in his own right, but not the kind you’d find listed in the white pages. He was a certain kind of
lawyer – the kind of lawyer you called when you were in a lot of trouble, the kind of lawyer you
could count on to take care of things for you, on many different levels.
Rumors had swirled about him for years—that he wasn’t afraid to break laws, that he was going
to be disbarred, that he took bribes and was in bed with the mob. He was constantly getting
reprimanded, constantly getting held in contempt of court. But he wasn’t sleazy – in fact, he was a
legend.
“Why aren’t his own people working on this?” Josh asked.
He was rewarded with a smoldering look from Worthington. “Because it’s a conflict of interest,”
Worthington said. “He’s not going to have his own office handling his affairs.” He sighed. “Listen, the
less you two know about the details the better. I don’t need you asking a bunch of dumb questions.”
“What do you need from us?” I asked. There was no way I was going to let Josh ruin this for me
by trying to play Mr. Bigshot Lawyer.
“Right now, I’m going to need you to go to Mr. Cutler’s office in midtown and meet with him. He
wants to meet each of you in person to make sure he’s comfortable working with you.”
“Now?” Josh asked.
“Yes, now,” Worthington said, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe our stupidity. “I’ll text
you the address.”

TEN MINUTES LATER, Josh and I were in the back of a black town car, speeding toward Midtown. Josh
was on his iPad, making notes and highlighting articles. He wasn’t sharing any of it with me. Josh and
I weren’t exactly close friends. In fact, we weren’t really friends at all. We had a business
arrangement. Once we’d realized we’d both been spending all our free time studying in the lobby of
Hinton, we’d come up with an arrangement. If either one of us saw something going down with
Worthington, we’d call the other.
It was nice of Josh to call me tonight. He could have gone back on our deal and just kept the
information to himself. But now that he’d done that, it was every man for himself.
Which meant I needed to find out everything I could about Noah Cutler.
 I pulled up his bio on Wikipedia.
Not much about his early life, except that he grew up in Camden, New Jersey. Single mother.
Scholarship to Rutgers, then Harvard law school. He started his own firm as soon as he graduated,
even though he’d fielded offers from most of the big firms.
I scrolled down, making mental notes, wondering what he was like, if he was going to grill me,
ask me stupid questions like “How many buses are in the United States?” Interviewers loved to ask
questions like that. They said it was because they wanted to see how your thought process, figure out
how your brain worked. But I suspected they just liked to see you squirm.
I scrolled further down the screen.
And then I gasped.
Out loud.
There was a picture of Noah Cutler on the Wikipedia page.
I recognized him immediately. The cool blue eyes, the dark hair, the smoldering gaze, the tiny
little smile that made you think he was amused by something.
Noah Cutler was Mr. X.

I WANTED TO LEAVE. I didn’t want to go in, I didn’t want to come face to face with him. How could I?
“Are you coming?” Josh asked. He was standing in front of the gleaming building, waiting for me.
I glanced up. The building was dark except for a light in one of the windows around the tenth floor. I
imagined Noah Cutler in there, waiting for these two stupid law students to come in and meet him.
What would he do when he realized he’d had sex with one of them just hours earlier?
I needed to make up an excuse. I needed to say I was sick, really sick, that I was going to puke or
faint or have some kind of panic attack. But to do that would be career suicide. This was my chance
to make an inroads in Worthington’s class, to make my mark in an otherwise so far unremarkable law
school career.
So I squared my shoulders and followed Josh into the building.
We road the elevator to the tenth floor in silence.
My stomach flipped as we stepped out onto the crushed red carpet, and the floor moved under me.
I stumbled.
“Whoa,” Josh said, grabbing my elbow. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
I forced myself forward.
There was a receptionist sitting at the desk, a beautiful girl with shiny dark hair falling in a
perfect curtain down her back. I wondered what she thought when she’d been called into work at
three in the morning, if she knew her boss was a suspect in a murder.
A murder! The man I slept with might be a murderer. My legs felt shaky, and I sat down in one of
leather chairs in the reception area without being told I could.
Thankfully, Josh got called in first.
He returned ten minutes later, flashing me a huge smile and a thumbs up. It was a good sign. If
Josh was coming out so quickly and so happy, it must mean that Noah Cutler wasn’t much of a hard
ass.
“Charlotte?” the receptionist asked. “You can go in now.”
I stood up and made my way slowly down the hallway.
 There was a light shining out of an open door at the end of the hall, and I forced myself to walk
toward it. When I got to Noah Cutler’s office, he was sitting at his desk. His desk was huge and made
of expensive-looking cherry. I expected him to be in a frenzy, to be going through papers or making
phone calls – the normal chaos you’d expect from someone who may have been about to be charged
with murder. But either Professor Worthington had exaggerated the seriousness of the situation, or
Noah Cutler had nerves of steel.
“Come in,” he said, waving his hand at me.
I walked toward his desk, making sure to place my feet carefully and take tiny steps. The last thing
I wanted was to stumble in front of Noah Cutler.
“Your name?” he asked. He leaned back in his chair and folded his hands together on his lap. I
stared at him. Was he really going to pretend that he hadn’t just had sex with me a few hours ago?
I cleared my throat. “Mr. Cutler, I think we… I just want you to know that –”
“What. Is. Your. Name?”
“Charlotte.” I was stunned. Did he really not remember? Or was he messing with me? I had a
flash back to the way he whispered in my ear, asked me what my name was before he left. I
remembered the way he slid into me, the way he felt buried inside of me, the rhythm of his hips as he
fucked me. My face burned.
“Well, Charlotte,” he said. “I’m sure Worthington has briefed you on my case?”
“Not… I mean, he just told us you might be charged with murder.” Maybe he was going to just
pretend the whole thing had never happened. Which, honestly, would be a relief.
The thought of being charged with murder seemed to amuse him. “Yes.” He nodded. “And I can
count on your complete discretion as it pertains this matter?”
“Yes. Yes, of course.”
“Good.” He nodded. Then he stood up and walked around to the front of the desk. He sat down on
the edge so that he was mere inches from where I was sitting. He didn’t say anything for a moment. I
looked down at the floor and twisted my hands in my lap. “Stop fidgeting,” he commanded. My hands
settled. “Look me in the eye.”
I looked at him. The electricity that flowed through me felt all-consuming, a surge that took my
breath away. His closeness was intoxicating. I could still feel his hands on me, his dick inside me, his
fingers, his mouth, his presence, his dominance.
“I have your discretion?” he repeated again.
“Yes.” I nodded.
“In all things?”
“Of course.” If he was talking about what had happened in the alley, he didn’t have to worry about
me saying anything. There was no way I was going to admit that to anyone.
“Good.” He reached out and took my hand, turning it over to inspect my wrist. The X was still
there.
I tried to snatch my hand back, embarrassed. But he held me tight. “You left the X,” he said.
“I didn’t have a chance to wash it off.” The pad of his thumb traced a slow circle over my pulse
point, and I was afraid he’d be able to tell how fast my heart was beating.
He raised his gaze to mine, looking at me from under lowered lids. “That means you’re still
mine.”
“Oh.” I tried to take my wrist back, and this time, he let me. “I…”
“Stand up, please,” he said.
It was automatic. I stood up. He looked me up and down, his eyes stormy, like maybe he was
displeased with me. And even though it made no sense, even though I hardly even knew this man, in
that moment, all I wanted to do was please him.
“Bend over,” he said.
“Excuse me?” I spluttered.
He stood up from the desk and began to roll up his sleeves. “Bend over the desk, please,” he said.
Fear and excitement pulsed through me. Was he going to fuck me again? I wanted him to so badly.
My body was already ready, my nipples hard, my panties starting to get wet. But if I fucked him, there
would be no way I could work with him.
“Mr. Cutler,” I said. “I don’t… that wouldn’t be appropriate.”
“Now you’re worried about being appropriate, Ms. Holloway?” he asked. He moved close to me,
so close I could feel his breath against my cheek. “After what we did earlier?”
“That was.. that was different.” My resolve was melting, and I tried to take a step away from him.
He had that same spicy scent of mint and expensive cologne.
“How?”
“That was before I was working for you.”
“You’re not working for me yet,” he said simply. “I still have to call Worthington to let him know
I’m comfortable with you.”
I stared at him in shock. Was he seriously saying that if I didn’t sleep with him, if I didn’t let him
take me over the desk, that he wasn’t going to hire me? I’d heard about this kind of thing happening,
and even though I’d had the sense that my male law school classmates had been taken more seriously
than I had, I had never been so blatantly propositioned like this.
And I didn’t care if it meant my law school career was over. I had my boundaries. And no matter
how badly I wanted him, I wouldn’t be made to feel like my job depended on my willingness to have
sex.
“I won’t be working for you, Mr. Cutler,” I said, squaring my shoulders. “Thank you for your
consideration. Good luck with your case.”
I turned and walked out of the room, tears of humiliation burning at my eyes.
When I got to the reception area, Josh was gone, and the receptionist was no longer at her desk.
Maybe Josh had gone downstairs. But when I got outside, there was no sign of him. And no sign
of the car that had brought us here.
Great.
As I began to scan the street for a cab, my cell phone started to ring.
“Charlotte,” the voice on the other end said. “It’s Worthington.”
“Professor,” I said, struggling to keep my voice steady. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t trying to –”
“I’m not sure what you said to Cutler, but he raved about you. Great job. He wants you on the
case.”
“Oh.” I swallowed. Was it possible Noah Cutler had decided that since I’d stood up for myself
that he should hire me after all? “That’s great. I’m so glad. Um, is there anything Josh and I can do
tonight?”
“No,” he said. “Josh isn’t going to be working with him. Cutler didn’t get a good vibe.”
“Oh.” My mouth went dry. “So it’s just me then?”
“Yes,” he said. “Just you.”
“Okay. Um, is there anything I should do?”
“No, not right now. He hasn’t been charged. But Noah Cutler is his own worst enemy. We’re
going to have to keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn’t mess up his own case. You got it?”
 “Yes, sir.”
There was a call coming in on my other line, so I said a quick goodbye to Worthington and
answered the call.
“Charlotte?” It was Noah Cutler. I recognized the voice immediately. Smooth, husky, with just a
touch of amusement.
“How did you get this number?”
“I’ve heard you’ve been tasked with the job of making sure I don’t get into trouble.”
“Yes,” I said, deciding to try to be professional. “You need to make sure you stay out of this, that
you let Professor Worthington take care of things.” I hoped I sounded like I knew what I was talking
about. I wished I knew more about the case, but if I’d learned anything these past few months, it was
that people thought law students were better seen and not heard.
The door to the office opened, and Noah Cutler came walking out. He hung up his phone and gave
me that grin. “Oh, good,” he said. “You’re still here.”
“Did you send the car away?” How was he doing all of this?
“Yes. That other kid was worthless.”
“Well, thanks,” I said, annoyed. “Now I have no way home.”
“You’re not going home,” Noah said. I noticed for the first time there was a long black coat slung
over his arm, and he was holding a briefcase.
“Then where am I going? “ I asked.
“With me.”
“Where?”
“To my apartment.”
“No.” I shook my head. “I’m not having sex with you.”
He shook his head at me, like he couldn’t believe I would be so presumptuous. “No one said
anything about having sex, Charlotte. But you heard Worthington, I need to be watched. Otherwise I’m
going to get myself into trouble.” His eyes blazed, and a heady mix of heat and desire shot through my
body. “I’m going to need 24/7 supervision.”
His intent was clear. He wanted me to come back to his apartment. For what, thought? What was
he going to be doing that could get him into so much trouble?
Worthington’s words echoed through my head. Noah Cutler is his own worst enemy. We’re going
to have to keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn’t mess up his own case.
“That’s impossible,” I said to Noah now, shoving my chin into the air. “I can’t be around you
twenty-four seven.”
“Why not?” He moved forward, reached out and traced a line down my chin, over my lips, down
my collarbone.
His eyes blazed, cool and icy blue. God, he was gorgeous. I’d never seen a man this gorgeous up
close before. I’d had sex with him! He’d seen my half naked, he’d been inside me.
I felt my face flame.
Noah leaned forward, his face just inches from mine. “Are you thinking about what we did
earlier, Charlotte?” he rasped. “Because I am.”
I shook my head. “No,” I lied. “I’m not thinking about what we did earlier.”
“You’re not?” he pressed. “You’re not thinking about what it felt like to kiss me, how your body
felt against mine, how my hands felt on you?” He was moving closer now, his lips just inches from
mine. “Because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”
The pad of his thumb ran over my bottom lip, and the sensation drove me almost insane with lust.
 “Come back to my apartment,” he said. “We can do whatever you want.”
“Whatever I want?” I repeated.
“Promise,” he said. “We’ll do whatever you want.”
I knew it was a lie. Noah Cutler wasn’t the kind of man who gave up control to anyone. He made
the rules. He knew it. I knew it. And we both knew I was going to go back to his apartment with him
anyway.

BY THE TIME we got there, I’d gotten control of myself. I’d had the chance to compose myself, and my
heart had slowed just a tiny bit.
We took the elevator up to Noah’s apartment, on the 39th floor of an ultra-exclusive building right
in Midtown.
“I’m not going to sleep with you again,” I said as the elevator began its ascent. “It would be
extremely unprofessional of me.”
“Charlotte,” Noah said again, sighing. I still loved the way he said my name. “Why do you keep
alluding to the fact that we’re going to be sleeping together? I haven’t said any such thing.”
“You said you couldn’t stop thinking about what we did earlier.”
“You mean when I lifted your dress and fucked you in public?”
“Yes.” I should have been offended that he was saying the words out loud, but all they did was
turn me on.
When we stepped off the elevator into the hallway, Noah stopped outside the door to his
apartment. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked.
“Do what?”
“Come inside.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because I’m about to be arrested for murder.”
“Did you do it?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.”
I rolled my eyes. “If you’re saying that, it means you didn’t.”
He unlocked the door and pushed it open, and we walked into his apartment. “Nice place,” I said,
trying to sound nonchalant. Everything was gorgeous, done in shades of dark brown and light blue, all
leather and cream and softness. Huge windows gave an expansive view of the city, and the lights
outside twinkled in the darkness.
“Thank you. Would you like a drink?”
“No thanks.”
He moved to the couch and sat down, stared at me.
I sat down on the chair across from him, and asked myself again what the hell I was doing there.
I’d been trying to justify it by telling myself it was because I wanted to make a good impression on
Noah so that I could impress Worthington. But the truth was, right now, I didn’t give a crap about
Worthington, or about law school, or anything. All I cared about was Noah.
I wanted to kiss him again, to feel his hands on my body. It seemed a sin that I’d only had him for
a little bit of time.
“I really want to kiss you again,” he said matter-of-factly.
“No kissing,” I said.
 “Why not?”
“Because you might be a murderer.”
“You really think I murdered someone?”
“I’m not sure,” I said. I smoothed my skirt down. “I don’t know anything about the crime.”
“Worthington didn’t tell you?”
“No.” I shook my head.
“Then you don’t know that I’m probably going to be arrested?”
“I thought you were just a suspect.”
“I’m a suspect because I’m the most likely one who did it.”
“You don’t seem upset.”
“I’m distracted.”
“By what?”
“The way your tits look in that shirt.”
I blushed at the way he just said things that were so blatantly sexual like that. Cock. Tits. Pussy.
The words were foreign to me. Of course I’d heard them before, but usually only in movies. I
certainly didn’t hear them every day, and I certainly didn’t say them.
“Will you stand up for me?” Noah asked. “I want to look at your body.”
I stood up.
“Turn around.”
I turned around. I loved that he was looking at me, that he was being so blatant about the fact that
he was looking at me.
“God, you are sexy,” he breathed. “You’re getting my cock hard just looking at you.”
“Noah,” I said. “This is not … I mean, we really shouldn’t be.”
“Do you want to stop?”
I shook my head.
“Good. Turn around.”
I turned around.
“Now bend over.”
I bent over just a tiny bit.
“All the way,” Noah commanded. “All the way down and grab your ankles.” I did as I was told,
feeling the cool air hit the bare skin of my ass. I was wearing a black thong, not the kind of thing I
would usually wear, but when I wore a skirt, I was always afraid of panty lines.
“You are so fucking sexy,” Noah rasped. “Come here. Come to me.”
I got up and crossed the room to him, and he pulled me into his lap. His hand slid up my thigh,
pushing my skirt with it.
His other hand slid up to the back of my head, and pushed me toward him. “I’m going to fuck you
again, Charlotte,” he said. I could feel his cock hard against me, and I moaned. “This time I’m going
to fuck you for a long time. Do you think you can handle it?”
“Yes,” I breathed.
“Tell me you want me to fuck you.”
“I want you to fuck me,” I said. “Please, I need you to fuck me.”
“Say my name.” He dipped a finger into my mouth and I sucked on it softly, watching his eyes
blaze as I did it.
“Fuck me, Noah,” I whispered. “Please, I want you to fuck me.”
He kissed me then, softly, which was a surprise after all the dirty things he’d been saying to me.
His tongue was warm and perfect, his mouth exploring mine, probing hungrily.
I pushed myself against the hardness of his dick, but just like he had earlier, he reached out and
held my hips, stopping me. “No,” he said. “You don’t get to control this. I do. And we’re going to go
nice and slow.”
He began to unbutton my shirt, stopping as soon as my breasts were exposed. He ran a finger over
my cleavage.
“I’m going to explore every single inch of these hot, sexy curves of yours. Do you understand that,
Charlotte?”
“Yes,” I said. I was dripping now, so turned on that I was afraid I might come without him even
touching me.
He stood up, his hands grabbing at my ass. I wrapped my legs around him and he picked me up
like it was nothing, like I was as light as a feather. I buried my face into his shoulder.
I hesitated for a just a second, right before he brought me into his bedroom.
If I did this, if I fucked him, there was no turning back.
On the street earlier, yes, it was dirty and out of character, but I didn’t know him then. Now I
knew exactly who he was – someone I knew in a professional capacity, someone who was going to be
a client, if not of mine, then at least of mine tangentially.
And he could have been a murderer.
I knew nothing about him, except that I’d let him fuck me in an alley, and I wanted him to fuck me
again. I wanted him to bury his cock deep inside me, to explore every inch of my body the way he
said he was going to.
The thought of him not doing that was almost unbearable.
He opened his bedroom door and laid me down on his huge bed. I sunk into the sheets, my breath
coming in ragged gasps.
“Are you ready for this, Charlotte?” he asked me, pushing my hair back from my face. He kissed
me tenderly, his body on top of mine.
“Yes,” I said. “Yes, I’m ready.”
He stood up and unbuttoned the top of his shirt, pulled his tie off and used it to tie my wrists to the
bed.
His hands slid over my body, over my tits, my hips, my ass. His gaze never left mine.
I was totally his to do with what he pleased, naked and bound, totally helpless.
I held my breath and waited.

NOAH

SHE WAS in over her head.

I wanted her more than I’d wanted any woman in my life.
But she wasn’t ready for me and the kind of demons that tormented my soul.
I should have left her alone.
But I just couldn’t help myself.
 END OF BOOK ONE

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