That smile. It’s deadly, yet I love its stab. He pins me against his chest and moves both of us upward, sliding along the bed until he is propped against the headboard and supported by pillows, sitting half up, the change affecting the angle, a delicious effect that has me shivering in pleasure.
“Fuck me.” His words are strong, his eyes locked with mine, and his smile drops as need overtakes his features.
I move, sliding up and down in hard bounces, and he gives a tight nod of approval. I lift my hands to my breasts, the movement familiar, one from my typical lap dance routine. I squeeze them against my skin and am surprised by the change in his face. He sits up, and knocks my hands to the side, pinning my wrists behind my back. I pull, unable to free them and frown, his face now level with mine, inches away. I lean forward, trying for a kiss, wanting to calm whatever storm I have awakened, but he pulls back. “Keep riding,” he rasps.
The new position is awkward, and I move to my knees, obediently continuing, my inner stretch indicating that my unknown foul has, in no way, affected his arousal. He grips my wrists harder, using them as resistance, and my fucks turn shallower as I move to the position he seems to want, my back arching, breasts offered up to him, his breath becoming ragged as I continue a hard rhythm up and down his cock.
“Perfect,” he groans, holding my wrists tightly. “You are fucking perfect.”
A compliment. I fight to hide my surprise, warmth spreading through my body at the words. They give me renewed confidence and I continue riding him, a gasp escaping me when his mouth lowers to my breasts. That thing he does, his alternation of teeth and tongue – it has a stronger effect than before, my entire body at a new, ungodly level of arousal, the buds of my breasts sensitive and crying out for the attention he lavishes with his mouth. I feel the press of his finger, gently on the pucker of my ass until it is given entrance, the tightness causing him to swear against my breasts, the added sensation causing me to tremble atop him.
“I can’t—I’m about to...” My warning doesn’t occur in time, my orgasm impatient, seizing my body in a full attack, my legs going still from the assault, pleasure ripping through me.
He takes over, panting against my chest as he fucks me from below, his finger deeper in my ass as I come apart, a cry ripping out of my throat, animalistic in its strength.
He’s coming also, grunts coming from deep within his throat, his upward thrusts hard and fast. He releases my wrists and grips my waist, pulling me up and down in rhythm with his strokes. He roars, a primal bellow of ownership and his strokes slow as the sound fades, his mouth soft against mine as his hips slow, his arms wrapping tightly around my body and holding me solidly against him. His kiss marks me, strokes of his tongue speaking clearer than words, deepening the kiss as his cock softens inside of me. Then he pushes against my chest, rolling over and depositing me onto the bed, his bare body towering above me.
I stare up at him, my eyes making a slow and delicious journey over every curve, cut, and bulge of his body. The best sex of my life has officially wiped me out, every muscle a relaxed mess. He lets out a hard breath, then wipes his mouth and straightens.
“I’m going to take a shower.”
CHAPTER 9
Silence. No purr of air conditioner, no television from another room. Dead silence as I lay on the bed and try to figure out what I am supposed to do. Follow him? Clean myself up? Roll over and go to sleep? Or is now when he returns with a handful of dollar bills? My lack of expertise in the prostitution gamble puts me at a loss.
Then, his silhouette returns, passing through the lit doorway. I prop myself up on one elbow and smile tentatively at him, wetting my lips to speak. My thoughts stall as he moves closer, his gait and build all wrong, too big for Nathan.
The man stops a foot from the bed, way too close for my personal comfort and I scramble for covers, for something to cover my nakedness.
“You should be used to men seeing you naked,” he drawls, his voice a mix of husk and southern. He is close enough for me to see his features, to recognize his face. One of the bodyguards; the one who drove us here.
I pull the covers over my chest and glare at him. “I’m not at the strip club now.”
It is a ridiculous statement, given that I am now at a point below that, having sex for money. But things are different outside the smoky glass doors of the club. Just because I undress at work doesn’t give anyone and everyone a free look at my body. It is my body and right here, right now, I feel naked and want to cover up. Regardless of what this man has seen me do, I don’t want him to see me like this.
He throws a white robe toward me.
“The bathroom is yours if you need it. We have a few things to go over, some calls to make. Feel free to make yourself at home.”
“You always deliver his messages?” I scrunch my nose at him and he smiles.
“Most of the time.”
It feels cold and transactional, and a feeling of unease sweeps through me. I thought we’d had a spark, a connection. I thought his kiss, the grip of his hand, the pant of his breath—I thought it all meant that he had … I don't know what I thought. Yet, now, with the bodyguard glancing toward the door, I remember what this really is. One night. Maybe I should be grateful he isn’t pushing me out the door.
Dance.
Suck it.
I’m going to fuck you.
Maybe communication isn’t his forte.
I slip out of the bed, turning my back to the bodyguard, my mind whirring as I cinch the belt, the soft robe more luxurious than anything I have ever worn. I pull my hair out of the robe’s neck, stalling as I try to sort through things in my head.
“If you need anything, we’ll be on the balcony.”
I nod. “Thank you.”
He steps backward, out of the bedroom, and gently shuts the door.
NATHAN
“You need to be kinder to her." Drew speaks quietly, despite the closed balcony door, and the stiff ocean breeze.
"I don't want her to care for me."
Drew chuckles. "I don't think there's any fear of that. Right now, you need to be more concerned about her running from you."
"And go where? Back to that shithole house?" Nathan takes a long pull of bourbon. "She's smart enough to know better than that."
"I'm just saying, it wouldn't hurt to make her feel a little more comfortable. Especially if you want her to sign the papers."
Ah, yes. The papers. Just the thought of them filled him with a mix of anticipation and dread. In some ways, this plan was insane. In other ways, it was the only option.
He lifts the heavy tumbler to his mouth and buys a moment of time.
"Are we going to talk about tonight?" Drew's voice is as cold as he's ever heard it.