Every Part of You: Resists Me Read online

  He sighed into the phone with enough force that he’d have ruffled her hair if they’d been together in person rather than talking on the phone. Simone rolled her eyes, trying not to let it hurt her feelings. Reminding herself that he’d called her, and there had to be a reason, if only she could be patient enough to let him get to it.

  “I don’t think we should see each other again. That’s all.”

  Simone had never been a patient sort of girl. “You woke me up on a Sunday morning to tell me that you don’t think we should see each other again?”

  “I wanted to let you know.”

  “So you wouldn’t be rude?”

  “Yes. That’s part of it,” Elliott said.

  Simone chewed the inside of her cheek for a moment. “What’s the other part?”

  “I don’t want you coming to my office again.”

  Everything inside her went cold. Then hot. Then cold again.

  “I see.”

  “It’s not you,” Elliott said finally.

  “No. It’s you. Definitely you.”

  There came a long silence in which she was certain he would disconnect the call. Simone sat with the phone pressed to her ear until he did, without even a good-bye, trying to pretend this didn’t matter. Trying to tell herself it was better to know, no matter how hard it had been to hear.

  It was always better to know.

  * * *

  Elliott hated to run, but it was one of the few things he’d managed to hang on to from his high school days, when he hadn’t been athletic or competitive enough to play team sports. Track and field had allowed him to compete and be part of something, yet hadn’t been necessary for him to rely on someone else to perform. Or to have someone else rely on him.

  So, he ran even though he hated it, and he ran hard until everything ached, and then he went home and ran the shower icy cold until the stars at the edges of his vision had stopped dancing and he was sure he wasn’t going to pass out. Then he turned the water slowly to warm. Then hot.

  He’d seen Simone in the lobby of the building two days ago. She’d looked right at him. Then past him, those brilliant blue eyes gliding over him without so much as a blink of recognition. He might as well have been a stranger for all the attention she’d paid.

  He was a stranger, that was the thing. The fact they’d fucked didn’t change that. The food she’d brought him, the easy way she had about her, the way she’d kept managing to make him laugh when he wasn’t expecting it … none of that mattered. It didn’t make them know each other.

  And he had put a stop to any chance they’d have of getting to know each other, too. He’d been an idiot about it. Calling her up, telling her that he didn’t want to see her again. He wouldn’t have done it, except that Simone had proven to be the sort of woman who wouldn’t simply wait for him to call, and when he didn’t, get the picture and quietly sulk her way out of being interested.

  He’d had to tell her he didn’t want to see her again. If he didn’t, she might’ve shown up at his office with food and that hair, that body, that intoxicating smell. Because if she’d done that again, he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from taking what she was offering.

  Thinking of it now, his cock stirred. He was no fan of self-denial, but he hadn’t fucked another woman in weeks. That wasn’t that unusual. He’d been busy with work and sometimes the effort of finding conflict-free sex wasn’t worth the reward. But he hadn’t even jerked off, which wasn’t like him.

  A few strokes got him completely hard in a minute. Leaning into the water, head down to let the needle-harsh stream hit him all over the back of his neck, Elliott put a hand on the wall. He gave his cock short, careful strokes, every so often palming the head. The water didn’t make him slick enough, so he spit into his palm and shuddered at how much better that felt.

  He couldn’t stop thinking about her.

  “Fuck,” Elliott muttered as his hand moved.

  His knees bent a little as he pumped forward, into the heat and slickness of his hand. No substitute for her warm and willing pussy, but damn, after so long without coming, he was already close. His balls tightened, along with the pucker of his asshole. He let out a long, low groan.

  He could finish himself off like this in another thirty seconds, but some perverse part of him wanted to keep it going. Prolonging the pleasure was its own sort of punishment, there was no way to ignore that, but at the moment he could focus only on the shudders of sensation flooding him. Slower, slower, slower, until clear droplets of pre-come eased out of him, slicking his stroking even more.

  Bent over in front of him, she presents that perfect ass and looks over her shoulder at him with that smirk she has to know drives him wild. Her blue eyes are smudged with heavy black liner. Her black hair in soft spikes. Red mouth ripe, she shifts her hips from side to side, tempting him.

  She spreads her legs, giving him a teasing, tantalizing hint of that pretty pussy. The dark hair there. A glimpse of pink. Tilting her hips, she offers him her body, and he wants to slide his hard cock so deep inside her. Fuck her until she screams his name.

  He wants to make her beg for him.

  He takes his cock and rubs it along the seam of her cunt from behind. Then up. Simone bends her head, no longer looking at him. Waiting for him. Her skin dimples with gooseflesh; he can hear the soft, anticipatory sound of her breathing quicken when he taps her ass with his dick.

  When he covers one ass cheek with his hand, letting her feel the warmth, Simone shudders. She arches, just a little, pushing herself into his touch.

  “I want it,” she whispers.

  Elliott smacks that perfect ass, leaving behind the imprint of his hand, slowly turning red. The other goes between her legs to find her soaking pussy. The hard knot of her clit, which he tweaks between his thumb and forefinger, jerking it.

  She cries out, spreading her legs. He pushes a finger inside her. Then another. A third. He fingerfucks her until she bucks her hips, and he slows, stops, keeping his fingers deep in her hot, wet pussy. Smacks her ass again, the other cheek this time.

  “You want it.” The words drop out of him like stones into water, solid and making ripples. “Tell me you want it.”

  “I want you, Elliott.”

  “You want me to what?”

  “Fuck me,” Simone breathes. “Make me come. Make me hurt, Elliott. Please.”

  Gripping her hips, he turns her and lays her back on the edge of the bed, her legs spread. Everything open to him. Her pussy’s wet and swollen, and he uses the tip of his cock to tease her clit, stroking it over her flesh again and again until she begins to tremble.

  He can’t stop himself then from pushing his prick inside her. Her pussy tightens on him, clutching, and he pinches her clit as he fucks in and out of her. Faster.

  Her eyes capture him.

  “What do you want?” he asks her, voice strangled and choked with his own pleasure.

  “You,” Simone cries. “I want you.”

  Seating himself balls deep inside her, Elliott stops thrusting. Looking deep into her eyes, watching her pupils dilate, he spanks her clit. Hard. And when he feels her come around his cock, her pussy squeezing and fluttering all over him, he comes too.

  With a wordless shout, Elliott spent himself in his fist. He came so hard he painted the shower’s tile walls. Four, five spurts that left him gasping and shuddering. His hand skidded on the wall, and the world spun from the hot water and force of his orgasm.

  With the aftershocks of his climax still pulsing through him, he spun the faucet handle, turning the water back to cold. Another set of gasps tore from his throat as the frigid spray hit him in the face, but it didn’t stop his cock from throbbing out another last few tremors.

  In the bedroom Elliott fell naked onto the bed and let everything settle. The ceiling fan spun lazily over his head, drying him, and he watched the blades turn until he was slightly hypnotized. He swallowed heavily.

  Still thinking of her.

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