“Last time I checked, I own this hospital. So if I say so, you are.”
“I don’t want your charity. It’s too little, too late.”
Art’s pulls his head back from mine, the playfulness gone from his eyes.
“Don’t say that.”
“Why?” I let go of his hand. “Did you think you could buy me? That the poor, destitute single mother would be grateful if you threw some cash her way?”
“I already did buy you, Nina. Don’t you remember our deal?”
“None of that is legal.” I roll my eyes. “I was a terrified 20-year-old and you blackmailed me into a relationship with you. Then you fucked me over.”
“I don’t remember there being much blackmail involved.” He quirks an eyebrow, his voice softening again.
Did I practically jump at the chance to fuck Art, that first time? And then many times after that? Yes. Fine. I couldn’t believe that he would want me, that it could feel this good to be with someone, that I could be appreciated in that way.
But the audacity of this man, that he thinks he can storm his way back into my life without asking for forgiveness, without apologizing.
“Sure, split hairs about the definition of blackmail. That will save you.”
“You knew who you were stealing from, Nenoka. The price wasthis.” He gestures between us. “You’re mine.”
“Not anymore.”
His eyes flash at the challenge.
As if he wants to prove the contrary, his lips are on mine with crushing force. I don’t stop him.
“Fuck you,” I gasp, the bittersweet feeling of kissing him consuming all of me again. This time I want so much more than just a kiss, my hands already running over Art’s torso.
“Fuck me,” Art agrees.
With one hand he grabs my ass, while the other slides under my panties. The friction against my clit combined with his mouth on my neck, the way he’s breathing hard too, rolling his hips against me so that I can feel how hard he is, makes me come apart in record time.
I grip his arm and lean back against the banister.
He lets out a groan between those unfairly beautiful lips. “That’s it, Nenoka. Give it to me. Soak my hand.”
I shudder against him, absolutely helpless to stop myself from riding this wave of pleasure while he plays with me like this.
“I hate you,” I gasp as he keeps the pressure on my clit until I’m letting out helpless, needy whines, another orgasm half-building inside me. “Anyone could walk in right now.”
He nods. “Do you want me to stop?”
I shake my head. The risk of being discovered makes it more exciting. Although just the feeling of being touched by Art after being deprived for so long is already making my head spin.
He’s familiar, but not. I want to relax into his touch, but he’s rougher, more possessive, more desperate. Like he’s missed me theway I’ve missed him. Which makes no fucking sense.
When I’m spent, shuddering against him, he lies me down on the stairs, strips away my scrubs and bathes my pussy with his tongue.
The rough feeling of his stubble against my inner thighs, his hot breath everywhere, and his groan when he tastes me, all of it coalesces in me bucking my hips, my thighs wrapped around his head, while he devours me.
Only when I’ve orgasmed a second time, drenching his face, does he finally unbuckle his pants.
Fuck.
I’d let myself forget his cock, and my eyes go wide when I see it again. It springs to attention, like he’s been aroused just from the taste and feel of me.
