Lucius

Maybe standing here wasn't the best idea.

Not because it will rile Brandon up—which is always a highlight to my day—but because I've got a raging hard on. I'd came to collect on my kindness, and I've come to test the little tiger. She's easily timid, but the front she puts up is humorous. If it weren't for her determination, Florentina would've sent her home crying, and as for her colleague, maybe it was her pride keeping her together. I can see why Brandon wants her.

But after the visuals in my dream, I'm determined to see what she's really like, and specifically, what she feels like. My imagination could be off key with her, but as long as I'm able to feel how soft her skin is, what her smell is, and how she tastes; I'll settle for that. Judging by the subtleness when she had been with Brandon, I'm pinning my bets on she hasn't had a man before, and that means I'm fair game to show her.

And boy will I show her.

The figments of her moans run straight to my cock, the length pulsing with the need to feel a woman, and out of curiosity, it's the woman who hides behind a wall. And that exact woman is unknowingly waiting for me behind the door of the house across the street from me.

It's not a long street, but it isn't short either with its rows of houses with a car's width apart and the road practically on their doorsteps. There's no lighting from any of the windows in her place, and it makes me wonder if she's even in at all, but that gut feeling has me striding across the street until I'm toe to toe with her door and knocking; perhaps knocking a little too loud for a casual visit.

If my plans were going to involve anything casual that is.

I'm leaving today with the feel of her lips on my mind, and I don't care how dirty I'll have to play to do it. Then I'll let her go to wonder about the what if's while Brandon's left in the dust.

When there's no answer, I wrap again. And then frustration builds deep within and it pisses me off because I'm never one to feel frustrated. I'm the one who make people feel what I want them to feel, so I'll put this down to the fact I'm in need of a good fuck and not the need to figure out why this woman is special.

When the door swings open, I'm about to demand for what took so long when my lips slam together in a thin line. Tamina's small stature is bundled in a thick blanket, and her skin is fairly pale with dark circles under her eyes. The golden locks atop her cranium are dull and tangled, and her kissable lips are slightly parted as her chest rises and falls too quickly to be normal.

"W-what are you doing here?" she whispers.

The frustration disappears, but the plan remains intact. Clearing my throat, my lip slowly lifts at the corner. "I've came to collect on my generosity."

Tamina

Shifting from one foot to the other, my eyes tiresomely lift to meet his determined ones, and my breath comes out shaky. "I-I'm afraid now isn't a good time, or ever in fact. I'd rather not get in between you and Brandon, and I'd prefer to keep to myself as well."

Instead of answering, he strides forward, causing me to stumble back. My mind's racing with anything and everything I can think of to get him to leave, but seeing how he's been on previous encounters, none of them will sink in.

"P-please, get out."

Taking another step back, my legs turn into jelly and my eyes squeeze tight as there's nothing for me to latch onto to steady myself. However, instead of a rough bump, strong arms lace around me and pull me up until I'm inches away from a white dress shirt and meet icy irises. They're bright with mystery, and my breath quickens when his thumb softly drags down my bottom lip, and his tongue trails his own.

"Tamina," he rasps, and my cheeks heat unwantedly, and I'm thankful he settles me on my feet, only he doesn't let go even when I'm trying to bat him away. "You're sick."

It's not a question, and it takes everything in me to not say, "Duh." Or, "No, really?" Instead, I turn my gaze onto his dress shoes and ask, "What do you want from me?"

Lucius doesn't say anything to me for a moment, and it sends me on edge. Shortly after, he hikes a shoulder to indicate his backpack. "I've got something for you to do for me."

"Can't it wait?" I offer slowly, and he chuckles with a shake of the head.

"No, tiger, I'm not sure when you will be as compliant or without Brandon."

Swallowing back the lump in my throat, my spine straightens and my chin tilts up defiantly. "And here I thought you weren't afraid to state what you wanted."

His eyes glimmer with amusement as his body stalks forward until I'm cornered, and a shocked breath comes from me when my padded back hits the wall. His finger tilts my chin back up when it slips down, and his smile is cruel. "Sweetheart, if Brandon was here, I'd easily steal you from him with one word—a name, actually—but if you challenge me again, I might be tempted to give into the chase."

My eyes widen, and his narrow on their way down to my lips and relax when they meet mine again.

"Y-you can't do anything to me. . . and don't forget, I'm with Brandon," I try to fire back confidently, but the look he gives me only implies he knows I'm trying to be courageous.

"That may be so, little tiger, but that doesn't mean I can't sway you from him. All it takes, is a little persuasion. . ." His face is close to mine, and the grip he's got my chin in prevents me from being able to turn, and my body is too weak to overcome him. "Answer me this, and I'll go easy on you, sweetheart—for now. Have you been with a man before?"

With one last push for control, I grit out, "It's none of your business."

Lucius' free hand grips my blanket at the seam and keeps it there as he dusts his lips over the shell of my ear. "Answer me, Tamina, or I'm going to kiss you. And when I say kiss you, I don't mean a pussy's kiss with a small peck, or something soft. I'm going to devour you, leave you breathless, and swallow every moan you have to offer."

Brandon. . . why couldn't you be here?

"N-no. . ."

"No, what?" he demands, never pressing his mouth to my skin.

"No, I haven't. . . and I don't want you touching me," I bite back, and his features light up in amusement.

"Maybe one day—"

"What do you want to show me?" I sniffle, keeping the bogeys where they belong, and reigning in the frustration I'm feeling so he doesn't have a rise out of me.

Taking a step back from me, he swipes his thumb across his lip, and my teeth instinctively sink into mine to hold back the anxiety seeping into my system. The only thing on my mind right now, is Brandon. He's not here, and I'm alone with a man I know close to nothing about, and he's been labelled as a cunning man who cannot be trusted. That, and he's trying to get a rise out of me in more ways than one.

"First, you need to lay down."

Lucius reaches for me, and I'm quick to bat his hands away. "I don't want to owe you any more favours, I'll sort myself out. It's not like you actually care anyway," I throw at him, making my point by stepping around him and toward the sitting room.

A rough squeal comes from me when my legs fly out from under me and my body defies gravity. His musky scent surrounds me, and the sweet afternote tickles my nose as I'm forced against his chest, and the warmth coming from him combined with the blanket shamefully feels comfortable. When we reach the sitting room, he's surprisingly gentle in laying me down and making sure I've got a pillow behind me for extra cushioning.

"Better?" he inquires expectantly.

"Yes. . . thank you."

With a firm nod, he lifts my legs against my protests and sits beneath them with a casual arm drape over the top. "Here, there's five chapters of a manuscript, I need you to read them."

I sputter, unable to conjure a proper sentence. "B-but, why can't you do it? Why me? What do I do?"

With a sly gleam to his eye, he shrugs. "Read, and I'll ask for your input at the end. Do I have to bribe you to do this too?"

My head weakly shakes as he extends a decent amount of paper bound by a thin cord of rope. The paper smells of fresh print paper, and there's not a single smudge in view, nor does the font look out of place. I've never held a part of a manuscript in my hand before, at least if a finalised book doesn't count. I'm excited and nervous about what can go down now, all because a publishing agent, and the boss at that is going to be analysing my analysis.

Leaning back, my hands make a point to hold the pages up so I'm not looking at him and blocking his view of me too, and flick to the first page.

Chapter one, here we go. . .