Worker Bee: The Revenge Ch. 04

Keisha stumbled into her hotel room, her pulse still erratic, her skin hot from the mix of alcohol, music, and that stolen kiss. The memory of it burned her lips. She peeled out of her clothes and went straight for the shower, hoping the sting of cold water would wash it all away.

When she emerged wrapped in the hotel's bathrobe, hair damp against her shoulders, she felt clearer, but that clarity only made the memory sharper. She stretched out on the bed, fingers brushing her mouth. For the briefest second she wondered what might have happened if she hadn't pulled away. The thought jolted her like an electric current, shame slammed into her chest. Ronald, her Ronald, the guy who had been her everything since their teens, her only lover. She shut her eyes, sick with herself.

Her phone buzzed. The screen lit up with his name. Jake.

The text read: I'm outside. Open up.

Her stomach twisted. No apology, no shame, just boldness. Fury rose, and her thumbs flew. No. We'll talk tomorrow morning when you're sober.

The reply came back instantly. Fine. Then I'll just stay outside all night.

She threw the phone down on the bed and turned away, refusing to give him any more of herself. But thirty minutes later she was still awake, staring at the ceiling, her thoughts circling like vultures. What if he really was still out there? Would he sit there all night? Was he taunting her, or testing her?

She grabbed the phone; no new texts. Then her gaze slid toward the door. The quiet in the room pressed heavy against her. Finally, cursing under her breath, she padded barefoot to the door. Her heart drummed in her ears as she slid the lock and cracked it open.

He was there. Jake stood waiting, leaning against the wall as though he had never moved, his smile small and unreadable.

Keisha gripped the frame, her voice tight. "If you're here to apologize, get it over with. I need to sleep."

But instead of speaking, Jake stepped forward. The door clicked shut behind him, sealing them inside. He was close, so close she could feel the heat of him, see the predator in his eyes.

"I'm not here for that," he said.

Her world spun before she could even process the words. Suddenly she was weightless, scooped into his arms like she had no say in it. She kicked, twisted, tried to push him away, but he was too strong, his hold unyielding. The next moment she was tossed onto the bed, the mattress bouncing beneath her.

"Jake...stop!" she yelped, scrambling backward, but he was already on her, pinning her wrists with ease. His breath was hot against her neck as his mouth trailed down, lips pressing at her collarbone.

"Let me go right now!" Her voice cracked with indignation, but he silenced it by shifting his grip, one hand trapping both her wrists, the other roaming with slow certainty. Across her cheek, down the slope of her breast, pressing flat to her stomach over the robe.

Then his fingers found the knot. A swift tug, and the fabric fell loose.

"Let go of me, you bastard, or I'll scream." Though she said that, there was no heft behind her words.

His chuckle was low, his voice steady. "With the things I'm going to do to you, screaming's a given."

He spread the robe apart, exposing her, his eyes dragging across every inch of her. Her chest rose and fell fast, breasts bare in the cold air, her stomach tightening under his gaze, the dark patch of hair between her thighs on full display.

"Oh my..." His voice dipped, amused, appreciative.

Heat flamed her face. She hadn't trimmed in weeks. Things with Ronald had slowed, the intimacy between them reduced to routine.

Jake's eyes snapped to hers. "Don't be embarrassed. I like it."

His free hand cupped her cheek, turning her head toward him. "Don't worry, Keisha. I'll take good care of you."

Then his mouth crashed onto hers again. She whimpered, disgust twisting with something darker. His lips were unrelenting, his tongue demanding, the kiss a theft she couldn't resist. Her chest heaved, her lungs burned, her body betraying her as her struggles weakened.

Something new curled low in her belly. Not fear. Not anger. Something dangerous. Something she had no business feeling. She hated it, hated herself, yet couldn't push it away.

He must have felt it too, because suddenly her wrists were free.

And instead of shoving him back, her hands stayed where they were, trembling.

Jake's palms claimed her breasts, squeezing, kneading, thumbing her nipples until her breath came in ragged bursts. She gasped at the sensation, at how different it felt. Her husband had touched her there, yes, but never like this. Never with such greedy certainty.

Her head spun. Why does it feel so... good?

Jake's grip loosened just as her body began to melt, his mouth still burning against hers, his hand teasing her breasts like he owned them. Then he stilled. His voice, low and dark, hummed against her lips: "If you want me to stop, say it now. One word and I walk out that door."

Her throat closed. The word hovered, trembling on the edge of her tongue, but it wouldn't come. The storm in her belly swallowed it whole. She hated that she couldn't push him off, hated that her fingers didn't claw or shove, only trembled uselessly in the space between them.

Jake smirked, reading the silence, reading the way her chest rose higher, nipples straining hard against his palms. "That's what I thought." He dragged his thumb slowly over the stiff peak, making her gasp. "You want this too, Keisha. Doesn't matter how much you lie to yourself."

She twisted, torn between the urge to shove him away and the wicked heat flooding her veins. Every brush of his hand sent sparks detonating across her skin, every hungry kiss made her pulse hammer harder. The bathrobe clung damply to her arms, but the front had fallen wide, her body naked beneath his gaze.

His lips ghosted over her ear. "Tell me no," he whispered again, daring her. His tongue flicked her lobe, hot breath pouring into her, "Tell me to go."

Her voice caught, cracked, but no protest came. Instead a shaky whimper slipped out..."ahh" and it was enough. He claimed her mouth again, deeper, harder, like punishment for her silence, like reward for her surrender.

Her thighs pressed together instinctively, but his hand slid lower, prying them apart, fingers tracing the damp heat gathering between them. She jolted, moaning against his tongue, back arching into him.

And that was when the phone buzzed, sharp and shrill against the nightstand. The vibration rattled through the quiet, slicing into the haze like a blade. Her whole body jerked, shame flooding back in a rush.