Downpour
Jake
Lunch with Mia used to be lovely.
Sweet, fun, even cocky sometimes.
But today, she mentioned Anastasia so much that it only ended up being as tiresome as a fucking board meeting.
It went from a, “she is the most sweetest thing to ever be,” which – judging from the sassy side of her I’ve caught glimpses of when she is unhinged – she is not, to a, “I could hardly understand why you wanted to have a thing with a girl that isn’t from your status but I’m starting to get an idea.”
I blocked her out most of the time till something else caught her attention. I didn’t even mind that that something else was a million dollar rare cat she found online and gave me the puppy dog eyes until I paid for it on the spot.
On my way back to the headquarters I had to branch out first to meet with a business client in the east so by the time I came back, it was already dark and pouring. I contemplated leaving every other thing and head home instead but when Jonas started pulling out of the driveway, I noticed Anastasia’s office lights were still on so I decided to check just to be sure.
Only to be greeted by the sight of Adam about to kiss her.
I’ve been working on my resolve to stay away from her these past two weeks and so far it’s been working. Working in the sense that I can tolerate being in the same room as her and not want to fuck her seven ways till Sunday.
But seeing her there, with him breathing down on her and that look in his eyes tugs at my resolve till the only thing left is a white hot boiling anger.
I take in a steadying breath even though it does nothing to calm me down, and take a step back.
All I want to do is smash Adam’s face into the wall behind him till he can never bear to see her again but I can’t because he was right earlier, Anastasia has a right to decide who she wanted to be with.
I don’t recognize my own voice, bathed in a dark heated jealousy when I say, “Don’t let me stop you,” and use the last of my resolve to walk away from them.
I’m too angry to use the elevator and because I need somewhere to vent my pent up energy, I take the stairs, stomping on it like I would Adam’s face.
I don’t hear the steps behind me till I’m at the door and a security hands me an umbrella before scurrying off to avoid my rage.
I whirl around, “Stop following me, Anastasia.”
“It—” she doubles over, out of breath, “it wasn’t what it looked like.”
Classic line.
“Why the hell do you think I care?”
“You don’t?”
“I wouldn’t care if you fucked Adam a thousand times over.”
She straightens, biting her lower lip before she quietly states the obvious. “Then why you so worked up?”
I don’t have a proper answer to that because I’ve been asking myself that for the past few minutes so I tell her the only thing in my head.
“Fuck off, Anastasia.”
I open the doors and step out into the downpour with the umbrella over my head and my hands balled into tight fists.
I need to hit something, someone, anything. I need to do something before I lose it.
When I’m calmer, I’ll dissect my anger and I’ll probably find a logical explanation for it somewhere in the dissection but for now I just need to get out of this scene.
I’m almost at the gates when a movement catches my eyes from somewhere behind me.
I turn around again and –
What the hell?
Anastasia is walking towards me, the downpour eating her petite body up so that her whole form is totally drenched. Her legs are shorter than mine so it is taking her a longer time to get to the gates than I did.
I might be mad pissed right now but my fierce protectiveness over her is superseding that anger.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I yell over the sound of heavy raindrops.
She doesn’t shoot back an answer or she does and her words are lost in the rain, the wind and natural noises shrouding her light voice.
“Get the fuck back, Anastasia!” I command.
And she just stops walking automatically, her body slightly swaying in the wind.
“Anastasia…” I warn.
This time, she yells back, “You’ve got to stop giving orders for a second and listen.”
I stomp back to her angrily and my voice comes out in a low snarl when I get to her and say, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
She steps away from the cover of the umbrella. “You don’t get to get mad.”
“I am not mad.”
“Yeah?” she points at my curled up fist, “doesn’t look that way to me.”
“Shut the fuck up and come here.”
“No.”
“It’s an order.”
I see her eyes narrow under the rain, “It’s past my work hours, Mr. Keaton.”
She is so drenched that her brown and blond hair is practically a dark shade now and I see the slight tremble of her body under the cold.
Not only that.
As my eyes trail her drenched body and clothes, I unintentionally zero in on the hardness of her nipples pressing against her pink shirt.
I feel my Adam’s apple bobble in my throat and I will myself not to make a move.
Refusing to acknowledge the moment, my eyes shoot back to her face and I say the only thing in my head.
“You’re not being funny, Anastasia.”
If anything she is being the most infuriating she has ever been since I knew her.
And for some reason, I’m getting turned on by it.
She doesn’t budge when she says, “I wasn’t going for funny,” she wipes water away from her eyes, “this is the only way I can get you to –”
My hand shoots out and grabs her arm, yanking her body towards mine and under the protective cover of the umbrella.
She shudders against me.
“Never defy an order from me, Anastasia.”
She struggles against me but my hand is firm on her arm until her struggles resolves to soft tugs.
“You can’t always get what you want, Mr. Keaton.”
She is referring to me yanking her just now but my mind goes farther than that.
“Yes I can,” I tell her, “I always get what I want. I got you here didn’t I?”
“This time.”
She pushes me again and my hand moves to her wrists. It is then I realize how much she is trembling, the shivering of her body and the way she bites her lips to keep it from wavering.
“Anastasia?”
“I’m okay,” she assures, “just cold.”
I step forward and put an arm around her so that she is pressed against me. She looks up at me and I see it again, that desire we have been trying so hard to suppress, the same desire that mirrored mine the night we kissed in front of her apartment.
This close, I feel the soft indentations of her nipples against my chest and I never thought I’d hate the presence of clothes in my life. There is nothing I want more than tearing her clothes and mine off so that I can feel her skin against my skin.
My fingers hover over her face and I gently tug on her chin so that her bottom lip is released.
Then my thumb trails a pattern lightly over her soft lips and she releases the tiniest moan against my finger.
This is wrong, I shouldn’t touch her this way, or want her this way but –
Tell that to my hardening dick.
“I …” she whispers, “I wasn’t with Adam.”
My fingers trail over her neck, “I know,” I reply. I know she wasn’t with him, not in the way my mind wanted to think, but that didn’t stop the anger from fueling my whole body.
That anger is vanished now, replaced by a wave of desire so strong I want to have her right now . . . right here.
My hands trace a pattern down her shirt to her hardened nipples and I squeeze between my thumb and forefinger before I can stop myself.
Anastasia sways a little and her arms winds slowly around my waist to steady herself.
I can't stop myself any longer, maybe I’ll stop after one taste—
Just one taste, that’s all I needed, one taste to sink me right back in the sweetness that is Anastasia.
One taste and I’ll be done.
The umbrella slips out from my hand as I grab her face and take her raw, slightly grazed lips in mine, kissing, sucking, exploring.
The rain pours on us in thick, fat sleets but I can only feel Anastasia’s lips on mine, her movements mirroring mine just like I want her to. My hand tightens around her waist while the other tugs at her hair to deepen the kiss. Our tongues engage in a sensual, fiery dance as we both devour each other’s mouth, trying to quench our desires.
Just one taste is what I needed, but as I pull back I realize how addicted I am getting to that taste, so much that I want to lose myself in it again.
Anastasia pushes on her tiptoes and murmurs “Don’t stop.”
And that is all the validation my mashed up brain requires.
“You don’t have to tell me twice.”