Window Shopping

Three. I might be falling in love with this man. Real, authentic, no escaping it love.

Saying those words out loud seems like a far-off dream, way in the future. Maybe one that will never come to fruition. But for tonight, I can show him exactly what I’m feeling.

That’s safe. That’s what I have for now.

Wrapping a hand around Aiden’s tie, I slowly back into the apartment, pulling him with me.

10

Aiden

Touching Stella, kissing her, feels good in an indescribable way.

Feels like where I belong. Grounded and needed and accepted.

I’ve got her pressed up against the wall of her entryway. She’s unknotting my tie and I’m pushing the jacket off her shoulders, learning the shape of her tits through the material of her sweater dress. The way she arches her back for the downward stroke of my palms, the mewling sound she makes when I pinch her nipples, tells me she has sensitive breasts. Licking and sucking the peaks will help make her wet for me. Based on the frenzied way we’re kissing, she’s going to need that crucial slickness sooner rather than later.

God.

Goddamn. She wraps a leg around my hip and I dip, surge up between her thighs, pinning her to the wall and grinding into the heat of her pussy, making both of us groan. And I don’t think we’re going to make it any further than this wall, right beside the door. We’ve barely managed to twist the deadbolt on the door to her apartment—no, her uncle’s apartment—and I could come already from the feeling of her pliant curves molding to my muscle, the way her eyes implore me. Now, now, now. They don’t have to say it out loud for me to know what she wants. I want it, too. I need her.

“Aiden,” she whimpers, her fingers beautifully clumsy on the buttons of my shirt. She pops them open all the way to my waist and pushes the sides of the garment wide, her breath releasing like the steam of a tea kettle. “No. No, you’re…there’s muscles under here. I’m getting Clark Kent transforming into Superman vibes and I’m not mad about it.” We smile against each other’s mouths and that shared moment makes me think of china patterns and Vermont and the nine million other things I want to do with this girl.

Including fuck her so well her pussy clenches every time I walk into the room.

But you’re not only doing this because you want her. Need her.

You’re here to prove a point. Prove you’re not too nice.

I have an ulterior motive—and that’s not right, is it?

That unwelcome thought has me avoiding eye contact with Stella, dipping my head down to taste her incredible neck. Drag my tongue up the side of that smooth column and become drugged by her scent. Rich, girl musk and crisp night air and a hint of peach. If she tastes even remotely this good between her thighs, I’ll never come up for air, I swear to God.

But even as I’m reaching up beneath her dress to peel the tights and panties down to her knees, I’m looking at the apartment out of the corner of my eye. And it’s definitely not hers. It’s temporary. There is nothing artistic or feminine about it. Stella has only just landed.

In fact, it seems as though her belongings are gathered neatly in one corner of the tiny living room, as if she’s afraid to take up space. A hairbrush, phone charger, a bottle of lotion. My pounding heart wrenches sideways at the sight of them crowded together in one spot. I want to address it. Want to talk about everything under the sun with her. But that’s not why I came here, is it? More importantly, that’s not why she brought me here. I came to scratch our itch for each other and hopefully create a permanent one. The kind that needs to be appeased over and over again.

The kind that might inspire her to sign the papers to make this right.

Because I am definitely in an employee’s apartment right now. I’m not judging where she lives. God, no. It’s just that I can’t ignore the power imbalance between us when it’s staring me right in the face.

Yet I’ve got her tights and panties down around her knees now. She uses her feet to drag them the rest of the way off, kicking them aside—and Christ, now her pussy is bare. I haven’t even seen it yet and I’m already moaning, my hands fisting in the side of her dress to yank it up, get her naked from the waist down.

“Let me see how sweet it is,” I rasp, molding her hips in my hands, trailing my fingers inward toward her exposed flesh. “Let me feel how wet.”

“Please.” Her nod is disjointed, her eyes glazed over, locked on my face. “Touch me.”