Mine are softer as they hold onto her hips, guiding her to dry hump me. The kiss draws on as we grind against each other, finally giving in to what we’ve wanted since we met. It would only go from good to great—hell, sublime—if I were inside her right now. We can’t get enough of each other as our tongues twist and curl.
When we pull apart, my five o’clock shadow’s abraded her lips and chin. If my fingers haven’t marked her, then my stubble has. It feeds a possessiveness I shouldn’t have.
“Good girl,chiquita.” I cup her cheek with a foreign surge of affection.
“Don’t call me that ever again. I prefer it when—” She cuts herself off.
“I won’t, little one. Are you familiar with the term though?”
“Yes. Whether I am or am not one doesn’t matter to me.”
“Shh,chica. I won’t call you a slut or a whore. Cunt is a body part, not who or what you are. I’m sorry.”
My apology stuns us both. It could put the power in our dynamic in her hands, but my regret takes the wind out of her sail. My thumb strokes over her cheek, and I’m tempted to end this game. I test the waters as I slip her bra down her arms. She doesn’t fight me.
“Thank you for answering my question.”
She swallows, and goosebumps form on her arms. It’s not cold in here.
Is she nervous about the next item to come off?
Is she embarrassed to be half naked when it isn’t dark in here?
Is she regretting this?
Does she fear what’ll come next?
I don’t know the answer to any of those.
“Do you want to stop,chica?”
“No, sir.”
“Will you let me make you come?”
“I need you to.”
“That doesn’t tell me if you will.”
She reaches back and unzips her left ankle boot and pulls it off, along with her sock, letting them drop to the floor. She does the same to the right shoe and sock. I’d asked two questions. Adding to her pile of discarded clothes is her answer.
“Will you set aside your mission and help me kill your boss?”
It’s a big ask, so I waited for a big piece of clothing. If she answers, her jeans will come off next.
“You might fuck me all night and into tomorrow, but that won’t save my life when I leave a failure. Orgasms don’t pay rent. At least, not when I’m receiving rather than giving.”
I grit my teeth. I hate the idea of her giving anyone other than me an orgasm. I hate the idea of her paying for anything through sex.
Yes, I see my hypocrisy. I don’t need anyone to point it out.
I’m forcing her to buy her freedom by obliging my freaky-deaky game. I’m a sick fuck. I guide her to stand up and unfasten her jeans. She pushes them down on her own. I might come just looking at her. I catch a whiff of her arousal along with her floral perfume. It’s a heady combination. I want my head between her thighs.
She remains standing.
“Will you let me save you?”
Chapter Eight
