Broken.
He doesn’t move as I approach him from around the bed. He doesn’t even look up.
Every time I’ve stripped for him in this apartment, I’ve been rushed and afraid. The opposite of how I am in the club—confident and sensual. Here in the dark, I find a new way to dance. It’s not quite Lola, the seductress. And it’s definitely not the scared Hannah from before. It’s someone new that slides my hands down my body, moving for him, touching myself.
I know what moves he likes from watching him at the club. From watching him watch me.
I cup my breasts and plump them like an offering. His head lifts only enough to watch me through hooded eyes, the angles and shadows of his face severe. I take my nipples between thumb and forefingers, pinching until it hurts, twisting until it feels good again.
“What you do to me,” he mutters, and it doesn’t sound like a compliment.
Even so, pleasure fills me. I know exactly what I do to him—but even if I didn’t before, I hear it now in the lust-filled husky voice. I see it in the bulge of his loose-fitting sweatpants.
I turn to give him a view from behind, dropping low and working my way back up so he can see the darker skin between my legs. When I turn back to meet his eyes, he still looks haunted. Maybe more so. I’m turning him on, but it’s not enough to chase away whatever demons found him tonight.
The carpet is plush on my knees, so much more forgiving than the concrete in the VIP rooms.
I half expect him to push me away when I kneel. This isn’t on his terms anymore. It’s on mine. He lets me run my hands down his body, over the ridges of his abs and the hollow spaces pointing down. His cock flexes at my touch, and I push the loose band down to free him.
Only when his cock is in my hands, bared and dripping wet, does he speak again. “I thought I could fuck you and not feel anything again. I thought I could have you and forget you. But that was impossible from the start. I’ve never been able to forget you. And you make me feel everything, Lola. You make me feel alive.”
A soft sound escapes me before I silence it on his cock. My lips press against the head, half kiss, half caress. His whole body jerks, and I grasp his erection in my fist.
“That’s right, gorgeous,” he groans, cupping my head in his large hands, guiding me. “Make me yours.”
I obey him, and this doesn’t feel like a punishment. It feels like praise, like pleasure, especially when Blue shudders as if helpless. I pull back long enough to coax him, letting him hear the hoarseness of my voice, made raw from sucking him deep. “Come down my throat,” I tell him. It’s an offer and a plea.
“Yes. Fuck yes.” He doesn’t come right away. He lets me work him, holding him out. His cock is slick from my mouth and throbbing with every firm, knowing stroke.
His voice is rough and urgent in the dark, surrounding me. “Take me, baby. Fucking take me. I can’t let you go after this. I can’t let you go at all. You know that, don’t you? You’re mine now. Learn the taste of me, the feel of me, because this is the only cock that’s going to be in your mouth. I’m the only man you’re going to fuck.”
I shouldn’t feel turned on by that, by the possession and the crudeness, but I am. I squeeze my legs together to ease the ache between them.
“Touch yourself,” he urges, more breathless. He’s so close, and I can taste salty precum on my tongue.
No. I can’t get off like this. The words are useless with my mouth full of his cock. And they’re a lie anyway. When I shove my hands into my folds, I find them wet. A few slick rubs and my clit pulses with need.
I rock my hips, grinding my pussy against my hand. He takes over the blowjob, holding my head steady while he gently, inexorably fucks my face. I relax my throat and let him invade me, let him use me while I use him right back, fingers rubbing hard, juices spilling over my hand.
His come is a shot of salt against the back of my throat, surprising and so damn hot I come a second later. He keeps thrusting, using my tongue to drag out his orgasm while I fuck my hands to do the same.
When he’s done, he pulls away carefully, his hand tight in my hair.
It’s the same dark eyes that look down at me, the same severe expression. But there’s no anger in his voice this time, not even a threat. Only surety and a hint of sadness when he says, “You’re mine now, Lola. For better or for fucking worse. You sent me away all those years ago, but there’s nothing you can do to me now.”
Chapter Fifteen
When I wake up the next time, sunlight streams through the window, lighting the heavy arm draped over me. His breaths are even and steady against my cheek. His leg is slung over mine, pinning me down. It feels both suffocating and sweet, like the tight hug of quicksand.