“You haven’t given a lot of blow jobs, have you?”
Her arched brows draw together for a moment, then she frowns. “It seemed to work all right for you,” she says tartly.
This makes me smirk. And that, in turn, makes her frown harder. I forgot how cute she can be. I tried to bury some memories so deep I practically dug a hole to hell.
She returns the cushion to the couch and smooths it down.
“How many guys have you been with?”
“Go to hell, Shane.”
My brows rise, but she doesn’t notice my bemused expression because she doesn’t look at me. Instead, she goes to the closet, grabs one of my coats and puts it on.
Does she think she’s leaving? It’s late, never a good time for a girl to walk around alone. The whole point of her being here is so she’ll be safe. I guess she’s not thinking straight after what just happened.
My body moves toward the front door, prepared to block her exit. Instead, she heads the other way. It isn’t until I hear the door to the back porch open that I remember her laptop’s still outside.
Avery’s not trying to leave. She just wants to be left alone.
I’ll give her that. At least until the next time.
* * *
AVERY
Fuck Shane.
As I stalk away from him, anger isn’t the only thing I feel though. It’s supposed to be, but looking up the lines of his body while on my knees brought so many things rushing into my head. Physically, it was shockingly intense how attracted to him I was. The way he looked as his chest strained his t-shirt with his deep breaths, the way his head tipped back in concentration, the rough sound of his voice as he cursed from the sharp pleasure. All of it seeped inside me, calling for my own body’s involvement in what was happening…into what I was making him feel.
In my core, I still feel the reverberations, the ache between my legs where the cock I tasted is really supposed to go.
Shoving open the door to the back porch, I practically stumble outside. The cold strikes me like a slap, making my breath catch and then fog the air.
The frosty night is bracing and will hopefully help clear my head.
I look over my shoulder, but he’s not in the doorway. If I’m being honest, I’m sorry he didn’t follow me. But weirdly I don’t feel any longing the way I once did, because providing him with oral sex was an interaction that actually had a resolution. One he seemed to very much enjoy.
It’s such a change from the past couple of years of seeing him across a room and watching him turn and walk away. Tonight, I wasn’t ignored or dismissed. And that was satisfying for me in its own way.
For the past two years, Shane’s cold attitude never failed to frustrate me to the point of wanting to scream because it felt so like my childhood when my dad failed to show up, failed to call, failed me period. Apathetic silence from someone you want to be close to is the worst.
The run of my thoughts causes me to shake my head at myself sharply.
“What the fuck, Avery?” I murmur under my breath, willing myself to get my head together and stop thinking of that blow job as anything other than a transaction.
I serviced him the way a prostitute would, for a price. His own emotions were not engaged.
As I grab my laptop, it almost slips from my hand. My jerking movement to catch the computer causes my knee to bump against a plastic chair, which topples and bangs to the ground. I stiffen, my heart thudding.
Jesus.
Normally, I’m not clumsy. Everything seems to have me a little off balance these days. Ever since I came to Granthorpe, I’ve slowly descended into darkness. Partly because of the threat of Casanova, but also from the threat of facing Shane on his own turf again. Since the rift, he’s been quite good at bringing me to my knees, though usually just mentally. He’s the prince. I’m the peasant. Logically I know that isn’t true, but he can make it feel true with one look…or the lack of it.
Right now, I feel strangely better. Even though I know he doesn’t care about me.
Don’t care right back. Shane Moran doesn’t matter. He’s just the guy who’s providing a safe haven so you can reach your goals. In a few years, you’ll have moved on, and none of this will mean anything.
With a few slow deep breaths, I set the chair on its legs and walk to the door. It’s strange how emotionally steady I am right now. Being a sex slave should be completely humiliating, and yet…
