One minute she is screaming fire and stranger danger and the next she has her fingers digging into my overpriced custom suit. I hate wearing these suits almost as much as I hate the scream that came from her mouth in fear. You would think I would have grown used to wearing suits, but I never have. I don’t care how expensive or how well tailored they are, I still hate the damn things. They always make me feel confined. A feeling I’ve always disliked because I am a big guy. I take up a lot of space that a city like New York doesn’t really have to offer due to the millions of people that inhabit it. There are always people bustling around and occasionally bumping into you. Times Square is one of the biggest attractions in the city. Thousands of people cram into the square every day, usually causing overcrowding. I hate big crowds of people and the pushing and shoving that comes along with them. Though at this moment I don’t mind having her in my personal space. She is still pressed into me and she feels good there. Her smell is delicate but wild, with a touch of lavender.
Her mouth is swollen from what I did to it, making her already plump lips bigger and pinker. It is all too inviting to lean in and kiss her again to see how pink I can make them. She looks like she wants me to. Those big, innocent green eyes are baiting me to lean in and do it again. I know that she’d let me, too. I can see it in her all too trusting eyes.
“Are you done screaming?” I finally ask her, trying to get my shit together. I’m not sure if I want her to scream again or not. It will give me a reason to kiss her again, but the scared sound in her voice puts me more on edge than the crowd of people around us.
My own voice comes out gruffer than normal. She nods her head, making her dark red hair bounce all around her. She’s gone from screaming to mute. My mouth twitches but it doesn’t take her long to find her own voice.
“Are you going to let me go?” Her voice is as soft as she is, with a small twang to it. She doesn’t have a distinguishing accent but you can tell she isn’t from around here. It isn’t just her accent that gives her away. Her entire appearance doesn’t scream big city. She digs her fingers into my suit more as she’s firing her questions at me. It’s then I realize I’m still holding her to me. I finally let her slide down my body until her feet touch the ground. I have to fight a groan as her small, curvy body moves against mine, praying she doesn’t notice my cock is trying to get at her.
They sure as fuck don’t make women built like she is around here. She’s small but curvy in all the right spots. It makes me think she’d be easy for me to move around but wouldn’t break under my strong hold. I bet those puffy pink lips suck a good cock, too. I fight these thoughts off, knowing I shouldn’t be having them.
“Delilah.” I say her name to remind myself who she is and why I’m here. My jaw tightens, knowing that she is off limits to me. I knew it before I kissed her but I still did it. I tell myself it was the only way I could get her to calm down. It worked, but now I am the one worked up.
“How do you know my name?” She glances around as if there is a sign somewhere that will tell her how I know her.
“Your father called,” I half-growl, being reminded of who she is and why I am here. She is the daughter of a man that I respect, one that has been a father figure to me over the past five years. I met Wyatt Howell sitting in the lobby of a hotel bar. At the time I hadn’t known it was the same man I had a meeting planned with the next morning.
He’d come to pitch me on an investment in a safer, more productive way to treat produce. He already had the land and was doing it himself, but this was to mass produce the chemicals for the plants. I’d been on the fence about the idea when it had first hit my desk but it had sparked my interest. I’d grown bored in investing in the same shit and had started branching out into things that I found interesting or different than what I was used to. It’s how he’d gotten the meeting. It still irritated me that the fate of something a man like Wyatt wanted rested in my hands. A bored investor that only took interest because of that fact.