This is what He want

Noah1.1

“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 c**k.

“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 f**k 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 s**t 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 d**k. She was so innocent, so primed for direction.

Finally, she looked over at me, the look on her face hesitant, her eyes wide. My c**k 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 p***y 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.