"Start the elevator again. I'm not doing this with you. I'm not fighting over what could be. Lust is my king. Whatever this thing is... I don't want it. You don’t either."

"Yes you do." He took a few steps toward her, moving her until her back hit the glass wall. He took her wrists in his hands and pulled them up, pinning her in place as he pressed his forehead to hers. "Tell me you don't want me."

"I don't want you," she whispered, tears filling her eyes. "Don't do this to me."

He brushed his lips by hers, his hand shifting to leave one holding her wrists pinned high above her. His other hand slid down her extended arm, over the curve of her breast and down her flat stomach. He pressed himself against her, a soft sigh leaving them both.

"Just let it be about sex, Marc. Leave it there. It's better there."

He released her hands and turned her fast and hard, pressing her chest against the glass. "I agree. Let's leave it there. I'll try not to lose my mind over another guy buried deep inside of you, Lisa."

He pressed himself against the curve of her rear, his hands coming to press against the glass as he nipped at her neck. Licking slowly from her throat to her ear, he whispered, hot breath rolling across her back as she sagged against him.

"I'm going to fuck you in here. I want the world to see what should be. I want you to concentrate on how right we feel together. If lust is what you want from me, then lust is what I'll give you. But when no one else can satisfy you..."

One hand moved to her stomach, sliding down over her thigh and lifting the cotton dress. His fingers slid into the front of her panties, her breath catching as she whimpered.

"When no one else can satisfy... come back to me. Come find me and when you're ready to plead for it, I'll be ready to give all of myself to you."

He slid his fingers deep into her wetness, Lisa crying out and arching against him. The firm press of his body against hers left her weak and far more needy than she ever remembered being.

He pulled his hand from her, licking at his finger just over her shoulder. "Lust says you don't come until I'm ready for you to. Love would beckon me to make it happen for you over and over, denying myself for you until you were close to breaking."

He reached back and pulled her skirt up, yanking down her panties angrily. She cried out, his movements filled with meaning that she couldn't take hold of. He unzipped his pants and pulled her back, filling her completely.

"Oh God," she whispered, pressing against the glass to get more of him. He took hold of her hips and pounded into her over and over, his cries beautiful, filled with the same emotions that tore her apart.

Pleasure mixed with emotional pain as she turned to look out at the world, the city living far more than she was.

"Lust, hmmm? You just want lust from me. A casual hard fuck." He jerked her hard against him, groaning against her hair. "Just sweaty fucking and nothing else. Don't want me to hold you? To take care of you?"

He wrapped his arms around her waist, one hand moving to press between her breasts, the other sliding back into the front of her panties to press the top of her sex. She whimpered again, hating the sound of it.

"Don't want me to trap you beneath me? To whisper how much I need you. How your smell drives me mad, your smile lights me on fire. None of that, hmmm?" He pulled from her and stepped back, pulling her hips and moving her to the middle of the elevator.

She started to turn, but he stopped her, his hand pushing on the top of her back as she bent over and reached for the bar on the wall. Holding herself up she felt like a whore, like something he would use and leave.

"Stop." She looked over her shoulder at him. The expression on his handsome face breaking her heart. He slid his hand in her hair and pulled hard as his elbow pressed to the center of her back.

"No. This is what you wanted. Just fucking. I'm down." He slid back inside of her as she arched her back. The pleasure was far more rewarding than the pain of his lesson. She pushed back, rolling her hips and bringing him to climax within minutes.

His voice rolling over the back of her as he groaned his pleasure. He touched her with shaky hands, his lesson for the evening having broken him as much as her. She pulled away from him, and tugged her dress down.

She didn't look at him as she pressed the buttons on the panel of the elevator. He moved to touch her and she jerked from him.

"Don't."

The elevator opened and she moved back, lifting her hand to motion for him to leave. "Your floor. Have a good night."

"Lisa... don't you understand where I'm at?"

"Don't say it. Don't say a fucking thing to me. You don't know me at all, but you think you do. Bravo. Get off and don't look back."

He stood there for a few minutes as she turned and pressed herself against the glass. The warmth of him still inside of her, his smell all over her. She was lost to the need to be his and yet he was a boy with games to play.

He walked out of the elevator, his shoulders slumped from what she could see in the window.

"Lesson learned," she whispered as hot tears dripped onto her cheeks.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Lisa had grabbed a cab from downtown, the driver kind enough to wait for her to run into her mother's house for money while he waited. The night had been filled with tears and screams into her pillow, the emotions accompanying love so much more violent than lust.

It had been a mistake to come to New York. Seeing him only compounded the fact that she was in love with him. If she gave him an inch he would drown her. She would pick up and move back to New York just to be near him. Love felt like obsession, wicked and controlling.

The morning came quickly, Lisa still staring at the white dress he bought her on the floor. She forced herself to get up and shower again, the one the night before not seeming like enough. She could still feel him on her, smell him all over her. Where there was nothing she wanted more than to bathe in his scent, his way of controlling her was confidence shattering.

Maybe she wasn't who she thought she was?

Her phone buzzed. Kari asking if Lisa was going to visit her mother. She started to respond, but Kari sent a pleading text asking Lisa to take her mom some of the little vanilla scones from the bakery near Lisa's parents’ house. She hesitated before simply saying she would.

Marc had texted multiple times during the night, trying to prove his point, but never apologizing. He felt like his point was made and if she wasn't willing to see him after it, then she didn't understand him at all.

"Fuck off," she grumbled toward the phone and launched it across the room.

A quick shower left her feeling a little better. Pulling her long copper hair into a high ponytail she slipped on a pair of comfortable jeans and a Metallica t-shirt. It would piss her mom off, which would make her feel better either way. She smiled at herself in the mirror and tried to shrug off the nagging sensation that Marc was right. Lust was part of the past, a part that felt almost dirty and unyielding. Love was something he wanted to move toward.

"That was the message, right?"

But why lord over her? Why make her feel cheap and small? Why take pleasure from her and offer none in return?

Anger burnt her thoughts away, Lisa jogging down the stairs to the kitchen. Her father looked up from his paper, a smile on his aging face.

"Hi princess."