Fresh out of the undergraduate gate, Claire Baxter is having a hell of a time trying to make ends meet in the Big Apple.
With her dead-beat college sweet(ish)heart as a roommate and a thankless job at a pretentious TriBeCa children's store, Claire's prospects are not looking particularly ideal.
Her situation bottoms out one October morning when a particularly nefarious straphanger starts harassing her on a delayed subway train, but on the edge of Claire losing it, a gorgeous stranger intervenes on her behalf and instantly ensnares her heart.
Tumbling head-on into the naughty bits of a steamy affair with her mysterious savior, Claire is horrified to discover that her knight in shining armor may not exactly be hers for the taking.
A small taste of what's inside:
“It was so nice of you to help me today,” Claire said quickly, not allowing herself to dream of his hands on her, “With that creep and all.”
“To tell you the truth, I felt a bit creepy after that ordeal as well,” he said, letting the front door close behind him. He slid the lock into place and turned to face her. “I can’t understand what happened to me when I saw that man try to touch you. I felt... jealous.”
“What?!” Claire spluttered, “I mean... what do you...?”
“It’s like... I knew in that moment that I wanted you to belong to me,” the man said, advancing on Claire, “I wanted it to be my hands on you. And only mine.”
“...Oh?” Claire said faintly. The man was inches away from her, towering a foot taller than she. She felt her breath quicken, and her breasts began to heave before her. The man registered this and let out a soft moan. He lifted a strong, firm hand and cupped her quivering chin, tilting her eyes up to meet his.
“I would never dream of doing anything you didn’t want me to do,” he said deliberately, absolutely. “Do you understand that?” Claire nodded, mute. Every fiber of her being screamed in agony of his being so near and not yet in her, through her. “May I...” he said, and she felt his finger tips on her arm, “May I touch you?” She thought she would swoon as she nodded violently, pressed against the wall of her small apartment’s hallway.
He let his fingers run down her arm with excruciating care. As his hand met her waist, he let his arm slide around her body and pulled her to him. Her breasts pressed firmly against his chest, and she felt his hot breath on her neck. His hands found their way to her hips, and she let her own wander along his chest. She wove her fingers through his pitch black hair and, on a wave of newborn courage, tugged at the roots of it. He gasped softly, his fingers digging into the flesh of her back. He clearly liked a bit of roughhousing, Claire thought. That boded well.
The man threw his weight against Claire’s body and pinned her to the wall with his hips. She felt a sudden, urgent need to draw him in, into the deepest parts of her. Her shoulders smacked against the wall as she steadied herself with her hands on his shoulders. Their eyes met in the dim twilight.
“I want you to take me,” she whispered, amazed at her daring, “Take me for yourself.”
Not Good, but the Author Was Trying
The spelling and grammatical errors, and incorrect words, were distracting from the content. This isn’t a story, it’s an unformed thought that seems to have been typed out in about an hour. The protagonist is an American living in Brooklyn, but there are so many British terms that I’m unclear as to why it isn’t just set in London? American women/women are interested in the story of the relationship; it’s geographical setting is usually neither here nor there. Also, why was a billionaire on the subway? You need to explain that right out of the gate to gain some plausibility. If writing this content is your passion, keep trying. And at least edit your work.
I love it. Short but sexy read...