I dropped my gaze to where he held me, lips parting to breathe harder as he increased the pressure until my arm lowered to between his legs.
His eyes glittered with black diamonds as he leaned back, rotating my wrist and turning my palm upwards. I knew what he was about to do. Any woman would with this much lust crackling in the space and his confession echoing in her ears.
I didn’t want it.
I did want it.
I wanted to pull away.
I didn’t want to pull away.
I swallowed a moan as he pressed my palm against his erection, forcing me to cup him even while his fingers remained loose enough for me to jerk away.
He made me do it, but I was the one who obeyed. I didn’t have to. I could yank back. I could punch. I could scream.
But I didn’t.
Our eyes locked as my fingers curled around the large, long, hot length in his jeans. My fingernails scraped on the denim.
His eyes shot blacker than solar systems with no stars or planets. He stumbled, wedging himself harder into my hold.
His throat contracted with so many things. But he didn’t command me to suck him. He didn’t throw me to the floor and break every rule by taking his need out on me.
Instead, he stood quaking and steadfast, allowing me to touch him how I wanted. His hand fell away from my wrist, planting back onto the table beside my hip. He didn’t thrust into my touch, merely gave himself to me in the basest of ways.
My eyes watered with blended joy, terror, and confusion as I squeezed in experimentation. I didn’t squeeze to bring him pleasure. I didn’t harness the many skills I’d been taught to make a man orgasm. I allowed foreign to become known, feeling the thud of his pulse beneath the jeans, the heat of his desire, and the heaviness of a man’s body that had once been inside mine unwanted but now might just be tolerated.
“You haven’t pulled away yet.” His forehead furrowed with discipline and torture. “Why?”
I drew my hand up toward the head of his erection, pressing on the soft, hard flesh hidden by his trousers.
He shuddered but didn’t grunt or swear. His fingers dug into the table, rocking the furniture beneath me.
“You haven’t forced me to my knees or commanded my mouth yet.” I looked up, trusting and imploring. “Why?”
He grimaced. “Believe me; it’s a battle I’m not sure how long I’ll win.”
His admission at how close he was to snapping made fear crawl through me, hiking up my spine like a rock climber with sharp crampons and hooks.
But I didn’t let it control me.
If he could be honest, so could I.
I didn’t care we were at his place of work, in an unknown office, surrounded by staff behind a shuttered window. All I cared about was evolving. “Touching you like this…it’s different.” My fingers explored further, dropping down and down to the soft bulge where delicate flesh resided.
He let out a low groan, the animalistic noise echoing in the chambers of my heart.
“I see how you struggle not to use me, and that empowers me to explore.” I feathered my fingers wider, pressing the steel against him. “I’ve never touched someone like this before.”
“Never?” His eyes blazed. “Not a boyfriend? Before—”
Before the rapes.
I shook my head, glad when a lock of hair fell over my eye, offering partial shielding from his intensity. “Never.”
His back arched as I pressed my thumb into his crown, growing frustrated with the thick denim protecting him. I never thought I would willingly entertain the thought of unzipping and pulling a man free just because I wanted to. Because there were no expectations on where his cock would end up and no fear that it would hurt me.
I wanted to explore him. To learn how to make him buckle because seeing him fight his base desires, all to keep me safe, made something glow deep and red and hot inside me.
“Do you like it?” His question was a bite. “Touching me?”
I answered back in kind. “Yes.”
He froze, searching for lies. I froze, searching for insanity. A shared look of understanding blazed from him to me. I’d just admitted to being open to a sexual friendship. I’d just given him permission to unlock whatever chains he kept around himself and believe there could be more between us.
“Fuck.” His hand cupped my nape, bringing my face toward his. Pressing his forehead to mine, our noses brushed, our lips so close to kissing but still separate. “What are you doing to me, Pim?”
“What are you doing to me?”
He chuckled darkly. “Giving you a better existence…if I’m doing it right.”
I smiled then gasped as he dragged me forward and kissed me. This kiss vibrated with tension; an explosion just waiting to detonate. But he kept himself controlled, gentle. His tongue barely broached my mouth. His taste subtle and sweet. The faintest flavour of copper from his cut lip. He pulled away before I was ready, leaving me aching and needy.
“You still owe me that bet.”
I frowned. “What bet?”
“The one where you agreed to spend one night with me if you stole something but didn’t keep it.” His lips turned into a calculating smile. “You failed. You owe me.”
The bet in question came back. We’d been on the deck after my first pickpocketing lesson. He’d gambled my freedom in return for one night. Funny how I no longer looked upon my freedom as the preferred choice.
My throat went dry as images of abuse and rape tangled with innocent dreams of caresses and cuddles.
He noticed, his fingers tightening around the back of my neck.
“I told you last night I wouldn’t sleep with you. And even if I did, it would never be painful for you. You have my word.” He licked his lips. “I’ve already been inside you without your permission. I should keep my distance. My one-time rule is fulfilled. But, fuck, Pim…” His gaze hooded, turning hazy with want. “You drive me goddamn insane.”
His lips smashed on mine again, cancelling words in favour of pleasure.
I gave into him, kissing him back until he ended it as quickly as he’d started.
“I shouldn’t do this. I know I shouldn’t do this. But—” He squeezed his eyes shut before opening them again with manic resolution. “Give me one night. One night and then I’ll be better. I’m fucked up from telling you things I’ve never told anyone. I need something from you after what you took from me. I need balance between us.”
His hand trailed from my nape to my shoulder then down my arm to link his fingers with mine. “I know I’m asking for too much. I know you’re not ready. But give me what I need, and then I can control myself again. I’ll…I’ll go mad if I don’t.”
My stomach knotted into a thousand bows, pulling tight—so tight my womb clenched and a jagged bolt of delightful pain stabbed me. “You want me?”