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I’m always careful, so it couldn’t have been anyone at the college. I never had my manuscript on the university system, and I certainly didn’t keep a hard copy anywhere on campus.
The only people who know are my agent and my publisher, and they wouldn’t…
Shit…
I ride along, watching the subway doors open at each stop. I have no idea where I’m going until I get off the train and somehow end up in front of Frankie’s building.
It’s six o’clock, so she may still be at work.
I walk into her building, nodding to the doorman.
“Can I help you, sir?”
“I need to see Francesca Thomas. She’s expecting me.”
“Sure, I remember you. Go on up.”
I head to Frankie’s apartment and knock on the door.
A few seconds later, she opens it. “Hello, Hunter.”
I walk briskly in. “You said you’d call me last night, Frankie. What’s going on?”
“I…”
“Damn it!” I grab her and crush my mouth to hers.
Her lips are already parted, and I dive my tongue between them.
She kisses me back, her need apparently as great as mine.
Until she breaks the kiss.
She gasps as she wipes her mouth. “What are you doing here?”
“I needed to see you. Why didn’t you call me last night?”
“I had to think,” she says.
“You told me when you left that it wasn’t over.”
“I…”
“I’ve had a shit day, Francesca, and I cannot take any lies tonight. What the fuck is going on?”
“I just…” She buries her face in her hands. “I don’t think it’s going to work, Hunter.”
“You’re feeling what I’m feeling.” I rake my gaze over her as emotion—anger, passion, rage—boils through me. “I already know this. The way you react to me. The way you’re looking at me now. The way your cheeks are red, the way you’re squirming. I know your pussy is wet for me, Frankie. So why do you want to end this?”
“It’s not that I want to, Hunter. It’s…”
I advance on her, grab her, and pull her to me. I slide my lips over her neck up to her earlobe and tug on it harshly. “Tell me I’m not making you hot right now,” I whisper. “Tell me you don’t want me the way I want you. Tell me my cock can’t possibly be this hard for a woman who doesn’t want me.”
“I… I…”
I sweep her into my arms, walk into her bedroom. Her bed is unmade, which is endearing to me.
“Have you forgotten you were spanked in this apartment, Frankie? Because I’m going to spank your ass until it’s so red and burning and your pussy is so wet that you beg me to fuck you.”
“Hunter… Please…”
“Please what, Frankie?” My tone is harsh, the way I speak to a disobedient sub who isn’t disobedient for long. “Please stop? All you have to do is tell me to stop, and I will.”
“Please…” she breathes.
“Please… What…?” I say through clenched teeth.
“Please… Please fuck me. Spank me. Then fuck me. Make me hurt, Hunter. Please.”
I say no more.
Normally, at the club, I have them undress for me. It’s part of the fantasy, part of the turn-on.
Tonight, I want Frankie to be naked, and I want to get her that way as quickly as possible.
She’s still in her work clothes—a short black skirt, a white blouse, and a gray blazer.
And those pumps she always wears. Those freaking black patent leather platform pumps, with the bright red soles that make her legs look even longer, and damn, they’re sexy as hell.
I like it when she leaves them on while we fuck, but not tonight. Tonight, they’re coming off. I lay her down on the bed and pluck them off of her feet.
She’s wearing pantyhose. First time I’ve seen her wear them. Her legs are usually bare. But Frankie’s a professional woman, and when she goes to work, she looks the part.
I ease my hands under her skirt, ready to rip the hose off when—
“God…” I groan.
They’re not pantyhose after all, but nude-colored nylon stockings held in place by a garter belt.
My cock hardens further.
“Fuck it all,” I say through clenched teeth. “My God, you’re sexy.”
“It’s a brand-new pair of stockings, Hunter.”
“So what?” I rip the first one from the garter belt, and then the second, until her legs are bare.
If I ruin them, I’ll buy her a new pair. I don’t give a fuck right now.
I rip the garter belt off her next, and then her skirt, pulling it over her thighs and throwing it on the floor. Lace panties. Fucking nude-colored lace panties. I take the waistband between my teeth and rip as hard as I can.
The waistband disintegrates under my attack, and I throw the panties on the floor.
Frankie’s eyes are closed, her cheeks flushed.
She’s enjoying this.
And so am I.
Only her jacket, blouse, and bra separate me from her nude body.
I’d tear them off her, but part of me doesn’t want to ruin her work clothes. I already trashed her stockings, garter belt, and panties.
