Untouchable (Untouchables, 1)

“I’m not picking a fight with you, I’m doing my job.”

He grabs my arm, pulling me backward and into the cooking section. “Stop.”

I turn and glare up at him. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

Carter rolls his eyes, tugging me into the corner, then switching our positions. Now he’s on the dominant side and I’m cornered between him and an intersection of books. Rather than argue with me, he grabs a fistful of my hair, yanks my head to the side, and kisses me. My heart hammers in my chest and I push against him, trying to shove him away. Carter drops his paperbacks and grabs my wrist, twisting it behind me and pinning me against the hard shelf of books.

It shouldn’t turn me on, but being manhandled by him turns my blood hot. It should be anger, but it’s something else. Interest stirs in my loins as he dominates my mouth, still firmly holding onto my hair. It only intensifies when he uses my hair to yank my head back and break the kiss, then pushes me down until I’m on my knees.

Then I hear him unzipping his jeans and my stomach bottoms out. My eyes widen as I look up at him. “Carter, what are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” he asks evenly. Like the shameless bastard he is, he takes his cock out. “Open up, princess.”

“Carter, I’m at work. I can’t—”

“Next time you wanna be a pain in my ass, do it somewhere more convenient then,” he says, unapologetically. His dark gaze lingers on my swollen lips, then darts back to my eyes. “Now, open that pretty mouth or I’ll do it for you.”

Despite the steel in his tone, I do open my mouth—to tell him no way, he’s crazy, he’s going to get me fired. I have a litany of incredibly valid reasons on the tip of my tongue. Before I can share a single one, Carter pushes the smooth tip of his cock between my lips.

“Watch your teeth,” he warns, in case I’ve forgotten since last time.

I look up at him, adrenaline surging through my veins. We’re in such a calm, ordinary space, a place I spend several boring hours every week, and Carter is defiling it just like he defiles everything else. Given he pushed me into the corner, we are in one of the blind spots of the security cameras, but anyone could walk in. The manager could come out of the back and walk right past. Carter could get me fired, and there’s nothing I could say to defend myself in this scenario.

I should bite him. Not hard, not to hurt him, just to scare him, the fucking jerk. Making me give him a blow job while I’m on the clock. He’s got some damn nerve.

I like his nerve, though. I don’t know why, but his raging asshole side does things to me. The roughness of his hand fisted in my hair, the way he holds onto my head and uses my mouth for his own pleasure. Even if I tried to stop him right now, I doubt he would, and that should make me want to bite his dick right off, but instead it melts something in my brain. Instead, I find myself thinking, what the hell? If I’m risking getting fired, I might as well make it good.

Cornered in the cooking section, Carter fucks my face. There’s no other way to put it. Calling this a blow job would be irrationally generous. He punishes my mouth for all the annoying things that come out of it, then pushes deep into my throat and makes me choke down his cum. It’s filthy, harsh, and somehow hot. Tears leak out of the corners of my eyes from the brutality of it as I pull back and look up at him, swallowing down the last salty remnants of his pleasure.

Carter caresses my face affectionately, looking down at me. “Good girl.”

His voice is warm and approving. I’m tempted to melt into his touch, but now that he’s done, I’m more concerned about not getting caught. I bend to retrieve the paperbacks he dropped. He takes them, and I push up off the ground, swiping at the moisture under my eyes with the backs of my fingers.

“You okay?” he asks, somewhat reluctantly.

I nod my head, wiping my damp hands on the sides of my T-shirt. “Yeah. If I get fired, I’m going to murder you.”

Offering a smile as he zips back up, he says, “If you get fired, I’ll just give you the, what, 60 bucks a week you probably make here? I’m not too worried about it.”

“You should be.” I nod toward the ceiling, but don’t point, lest I draw attention. “There are security cameras. If they caught what you just did, that’s gotta count as indecent exposure, at the very least. That’s not gonna look very good, Mr. Future Lawyer.”