Ambushed by M.E. McAndrews
Chapter 19
Austin
engine and the rhythmic sway of the car are the only sounds filling the silence. I grip the steering wheel, my knuckles turning white as I navigate the empty streets. Today was one hell of a stressful day. My mind is consumed by thoughts of Olivia, and I clench my jaw, determination setting in.
I take in the view of my newest neighborhood. The most spectacular neighborhood I've built to date. The streetlamps cast a warm glow on the pavement, illuminating the quiet streets. The houses, each with their own unique style, sold for more than fifteen million each. I pass an occasional car, but otherwise, the neighborhood is quiet. We've barely even begun phase two of the development, mostly because the Williams woman refuses to sell her land. And with only a few exceptions, the minimum lot size was set at five acres.
As I turn on to Springer Trace – my own private road in front of my twenty acre estate – the first thing I see is the massive eyesore of Olivia’s decrepit house.
I’m relieved by the thought that, without a job, there’s no way she has the finances to survive next month. She’ll default on her mortgage, or her tax payments. Probably both. A smirk cracks on my lips. It’s too damn bad about her dead husband’s life insurance not paying out. The loser might’ve been good for something for once.
As I pull into my driveway, I shake the image of Olivia’s ugly house and allow the normal sense of relief of coming home wash over me. I carefully maneuver the Mercedes into its spot, the engine purring as I turn off the ignition. I take a deep breath, savoring the moment of peace after a long day. For the first time, I'm regaining control. I’ve got Olivia on her heals, and now it’s just a matter of time.
I step out of the car and the cool night air washes over me. I stretch my arms outward and the knots in my back unwind. I take a moment to admire my car, its sleek lines gleaming in the moonlight.
God. I couldn’t imagine living the way Olivia does.
I meander around to the back door, my footsteps echoing in the quiet of the night, when I’m suddenly stopped dead in my tracks. Standing there in front of me is Olivia, wearing a tight dress that clings to her figure like a glove, emphasizing her curves in the sexiest way. In one of her hands is a bottle of wine, and an inviting twinkle emanates from her eyes. Her hair is swept up away from her face, giving her an even more stunning look.
Damn. I never imagined her like this, instead of her normally threadbare frumpy sweatshirts and sweatpants. A sudden rush of heat spreads through my groin, and I have to remind myself to breathe as I stand here, frozen, unable to take my eyes off her. The rest of the world seems to vanish, and there's only the two of us in this moment of stillness.
I tilt my head to the side. “What the hell is this?” I ask.
She smiles a warm and genuine smile that softens her features. “I wanted to apologize for everything,” she breathes, her voice hesitant. “I know things have been strained between us, and I wanted to make amends. I brought wine to, hoping we might start fresh.”
I cock an eyebrow. What the fuck is she doing? Her red, full lips press together.
“You mentioned comping me drinks at your new bar, so I figured, why not have one together on me?”
Maybe it’s the softness of her voice, or the warmth of her gaze, but something about this moment is different. It’s like, for once, Olivia is dropping all walls, allowing me to get closer than before. It’s perfect. She’s going to make it easy for me to find her other weak spots.
Without another word, she steps forward and stretches out her hand, offering me the bottle.
I glance down at it. The label is elegant and printed with intricate script. It’s obvious that it was expensive. Far too expensive for her budget. Something’s up. I search her eyes, and can’t help but feel like she’s playing some kind of game. A game I don’t mind playing along with, since it could fit in well with my own plan.
The dress, her makeup, her hair, and those fuck me eyes. Let's see how far she'll go to keep up the charade. I give her an affirmative smile as I reach out to accept her offering. “Let’s get started then, shall we?” I open the door, motioning for her to step forward.
“Please.” She steps past me, the scent of her perfume filling the air and enveloping me in its erotic aroma. I inhale deeply, my body becoming alive in her presence in a way I never expected. The air is heavy with an exciting source of tension. Not the angry, hateful, resentful tension that I usually feel around her. Is it anticipation? I'm not sure, but whatever it is, it’s pretty damn good. I take a deep breath and follow her inside, my heart beating just a little faster as she leads me to the living room.
I can't help but watch the way her hips sway from side to side as I follow behind her. She pauses in the foyer, turning to face me once more. Her eyes dance in the light of the massive crystal chandelier above.
“Would you like to have a seat?” I invite, motioning toward the living room. “I’ll get some wine glasses.”
Olivia nods and takes a seat on one of my couches, her eyes never leaving mine as I pick up a corkscrew from the bar and begin opening the bottle. When it is opened, I reach into the Mahogany cabinet above the bar and take out two large Burgundy glasses, filling them before setting the bottle back onto the bar.
I sit in the plush loveseat across from her and slide one of the full glasses towards her as I lift my own to my lips.
“So, tell me,” she starts, leaning forward to pick up her glass. “What did you think when you saw me standing at your back door?”
I slowly check her out up and down, admiring her body before locking my gaze on her eyes. She's playing a dangerous game. Perhaps she thinks I'm naïve. If it's a game of seduction, let’s see how far she’s willing to take it.
“I thought you looked beautiful.” I reply honestly, taking another sip of wine.
A blush creeps onto her cheeks, and I can't help but smirk. That was too easy. She doesn't stand a chance with this game.
“Thank you,” she whispers, avoiding my gaze. It’s like she knows I’m playing with her, too, and it only makes me want to push further.
“I also thought…” I pause, setting my glass on the cocktail table before leaning in toward her. “That you might be trying to seduce me.”
She leans backward into the couch, arching her back and lifting her chest high. “I mean… I’m just ready for a new start, new experiences.”
“I'm sure you are,” I mutter, taking another sip. I lean closer, putting my elbows on the table and resting my chin on my hands. “I did wonder why you were being so friendly all of a sudden.”
“Well, I haven't been with anyone in quite a while,” she murmurs, biting down on her bottom lip. She swallows hard, leaning forward, and stares into my eyes. Her pupils are dilated, and there's a definite fire emanating from her eyes.
“That so?” I reply. “And you think I'm easy prey?”
She nods, her fingertips curling around the edge of her wineglass.
I lean a little closer, my eyes never leaving hers. “I don’t believe I’m your type.”
“You don’t think so?” she asks, moving her face closer to mine as her eyes scan my face.
I lean in closer. “I know so,” I reply, my eyes riveted to hers. She doesn't shy away.
This is getting interesting.
Noticing our glasses are both empty, she pulls away, leans back, and stands up from the couch. She takes the glass from my hands. It's an intimate gesture as she leans forward to make sure I get a good view. My eyes drift to her breasts, which are braless and slightly visible beneath the open V at the top of her dress.
My cock twitches at the thought of her lying naked on the living room floor, imagining her breasts bouncing with each movement of my hips, her arms wrapped around my neck as I take her slowly.
“And what kind of man is my type?” she calls out from the bar as she refills our glasses.
I run my hand along my jaw, back and forth, contemplating her question. She returns to my side and gently places the glass in my palm.
“I don't know, you tell me.”
She tosses her hair over her shoulder as she sits down in the armchair, her hip only inches from mine. “I thought you knew everything,” she chides, staring into my eyes.
I tilt my head. There it is. That wicked tongue breaking through.
“Tell me, Olivia…”
She takes a sip of her wine, her eyes never leaving mine. The way her lips gently wrap around the glass is enough to make me want to take her right here and now.
“Want to know what makes my heart race? What makes my body ache?” she asks.
“What?” I respond softly. I can see the curve of her breasts pressed against the top of the dress, and the swell of her hips touching mine is a total turn-on.
She smells like heaven.
“A strong man,” she whispers. “That’s what. A confident man. A man who knows what he wants. A man who isn’t afraid to take what he wants. And one who can give me what I want.” She leans in close, her breasts brushing against my arm. “You.”
Me? How the hell did she come up with that? She's looking at me with a hungry gaze, and it's making me feel like a damn animal. I shift and cross my legs, trying to maintain control. This is a lot of talk from someone who hates my guts. How far does she plan to go?
“Is that right?” I ask.
I reach out and run a single fingertip across her cheekbone. She leans into my touch like a kitten, her eyes looking up at me pleadingly. She may be playing a game, but I’m enjoying every damn moment of this.
“Mmm hmmm,” she moans seductively. “Don't you want me, too?”
“You know, Olivia,” I whisper in her ear, my voice steady and sure. “I think you've got me all wrong.” My hand travels down her back, pressing her closer against me. I can feel her body shaking, her lips slightly parted. She's surprised. She's not used to seeing me close. I lean into her, my lips brushing against hers. She moans, her eyes closing in anticipation.
I'm not going to kiss her. I'm going to take her. She's so confident that I'm going to give her what she wants, but I'm going to get what I want. She's going to realize a man doesn't ask questions he already knows the answers to. She made her choice a long time ago.
“You're playing a risky game,” I whisper. She leans back slightly.
“I don't understand.”
So, we’re feigning ignorance now, are we? She's daring me to say no. She's putting on an act, pretending to be the bad girl, but I'm sure as hell not going to let that fly. Maybe she thinks she can bait me into begging her to get her on her knees and suck my cock.
No. I'm going to make her wait.
A cloud of disappointment fills her face as I lean back. She's expecting more. I'm sure she thought I was just going to cave. She wants me to take charge. To push her down, to bring her to her knees. She wants me to take away her choice. I'll let her think that, for now. Until it's time for her to understand who's really in charge.
“You don't want me?” It's a desperate gasp. She fears what my response will be. I can feel it.
“I do... but I want you to beg first.”
“Beg?” she asks, her eyes confused.
“Yes.” I lean forward, grinding my teeth as I forcefully pull away, giving her a taste of what she wants before I take it away. “On your knees.”
Her eyes widen. The look of shock on her face only makes me smile. I can see her hard nipples poking through the fabric of her dress. She’s definitely excited. Excellent.
“I will not beg for you.” Her expression becomes hard, a look of disgust.
“Yes, you will. You're going to beg for my cock, if that's what you want. And when you can't stand waiting for it anymore, then I’m going to fuck you.”
“You're kidding.”
“No.”
“I will not beg for your cock.”
“That's what I thought.”
We stare at each other.
“Are you disappointed? I thought you said you wanted a powerful man,” I say casually. I lean back against the couch, my arm resting across the back. Relaxed and in control. waiting for her response. My heart races as I wait for her next move. There's a defiant fire in her eyes. She will not back down that easily.
“Fine,” she replies.
The way she says it, that single word, it's like a fucking challenge.
A switch flips within her, and she moves gracefully, sinking to the floor. “Good girl,”
Her hands tremble and her knees shudder as she positions herself on the floor.
I watch, consciously willing my cock to not get harder. Her head is level with my crotch, her eyes watching up at me. She's giving me that look. The look that says “I’m yours to do with as you want.”
Her fingers slowly move down, and she tugs at my belt, snaking the leather through the buckle. She's so close, but I know she's won’t fondle me.
She's going to spend time here.
“I'll let you in on a little secret,” I say as I stare down at her. I can see her chest rising and falling slightly. She's biting nervously on her lip. “I don't like to be left waiting.”
I see it in her eyes. She looks like she's going to argue with me. Out of pure defiance. She wants to prove that she can take control.
“Please,” she mutters.
“Awe, come on. You need to do better than that.”
“Please,” she says again, breathier.
“Tell me what you want.”
She’s either playing a game, or she really is a horny widow who craves sex. Either way, I win.
“Say it,” I whisper.
She looks up at me, her eyes a mixture of confusion, desire, and desperation. I don't care. I'm going to enjoy this. If she’s playing a game, she’s going to call me a dirtbag and tell me to go fuck myself. Just like she did before. She's not the type to let a man tell her what to do.
“Please, I want your cock. Please fuck me,” she whimpers.
“That's more like it,” I whisper.
I reach forward, lifting her up, and slide her up my thighs, pulling at her fabric.
“Lift your dress,” I command.
She does it without hesitation, her hands slink up her thighs, her hips pressing against me. Her fingers move up, slowly tugging the dress up, revealing her toned thighs. Her skin perfectly smooth.
“Take it all off,” I say.
She gazes up, her expression pleading.
It's fine. I'll wait.
“Make me,” she says.
“Off. Now.”
She stands back, and once again, I think she might end her charade and rush out the door, tail between her legs.
She slithers the dress up, instead, exposing her panties pulled tight against her. I could rip the fabric off with a single tug of my teeth.
“Lift it over your head.” I lean back and watch as she pulls her dress over her head, her firm young breasts jiggling slightly with her movement. Her breasts are spectacular, perky and round, her tight nipples standing erect. Fuck.
“Put your hands behind your back.”
She does as instructed, her fingers instantly intertwined behind her as she stands in front of me with her eyes closed
“Now, I want you to answer my question.”
“Okay.”
“I don't sleep with strangers, let alone my enemies.”
Her eyes snap open. “What?”
I form a cruel grin on my lips. “You want to enjoy our time together? That's why you came here, right?”
Her jaw sets.
“So, how about we get dinner tomorrow evening? Make an actual date out of it. You've got to play a little harder-to-get if you want my attention, Livvy.”
She sputters, but I need to finish this. “So, how about dinner tomorrow night?”
I watch as disappointment flashes in her eyes until it changes to a combination of defiance and desire. Her cheeks and chest flushed red.
“We don't have to set anything up. But I guess that means our time is over,” I say casually.
“You want me to go on a date with you?” She looks confused.
“That's why you're here,” I whisper, stepping closer to her. “Isn't that the reason you showed up, barely dressed?” Her eyes widen. “You want to get inside my head more than into my bed. I’m right, and you know it.” She's hiding her anger well, trying to play her game like it’s hardball.
“Yes.”
“Great. So, we'll have dinner at Alistrano’s. I’ll send a car to pick you up at eight tomorrow.”
“Oh…kay…” she replies hesitantly.
“Good girl,” I praise, grabbing her dress from the arm of the loveseat and tossing it to her. “Now get dressed and go home.”