He pauses when he sees me standing there, across the foggy lawn.
“Petra?” He changes direction, coming toward me. “What are you doing out here? Alone? In abra?”
“It’s a sports bra.”
“A bra is a bra.”
I cross my arms and make a face. “Whatever. I’m just going for a jog.”
He regards me silently for a moment. “Are you…angry with me?”
As soon as he asks me that question, I realize I am being the escort from hell. I’m not supposed to get miffed and out of sorts when my client runs an errand. What is wrong with me? I physically shake myself, dropping my arms to my sides. “No,” I say, the denial sounding a little too forced. “I’m fine.”
Barry shifts on his feet, his inhale rocky. “Did I hurt you last night?”
The obvious worry in his tone snaps me out of my funk. Mostly. “No. No, of course you didn’t. You could never hurt me.”
“I could have. Without meaning to.” His gaze travels down my body, and he shudders. “You had me very worked up, princess. I lost my mind there for a while.”
The clench between my legs causes my lips to part on a small gasp.
Princess.
He calls me that when we’re playing our little game. Having him refer to me as princess now puts me in the driver’s seat, like I was last night. He calls me that because he wants me there. He’s a Green Beret. Lethal by definition. He towers over me. Could subdue me with only a fraction of his strength. Yet he looks to me for something now.
Something I instinctively know how to give him.
It’s what I need, too.
I purse my lips, nodding at the brown paper bag. “What is so important that you had to leave at sunrise to go get it?”
“Condoms,” he rasps, his eyes tracing the shape of my sex through my shorts.
Heating me all over. “Oh. I see.”
His poised-to-pounce body language implies exactly what his intentions were when he returned to the room. “I can’t believe you let me do that last night,” he says, hoarse. “I shouldn’t be so greedy. But I need to know what you feel like from the front, Petra. Before I go fucking insane imagining it.”
A whimper sneaks out. “Show me the condoms” I say, sounding more than a little breathless. “I’m surprised you could find ones big enough to fit that horny thing.”
His chest puffs up and down while he takes the stack of boxes out of the brown bag, showing me them in the palm of his hand.“I had to go to three different stores before I could find the right ones.”
“’Super King,’ I say, reading the neon yellow words emblazed across the black packaging. He gulps and cuts a glance to the side, as if talking about his penis is embarrassing, but…secretly, it excites him, doesn’t it? I learned that last night. “Five boxes. Three per box.” I bite my lip. “Do you plan on fucking me fifteen times between now and tomorrow, Barry?”
“I got extra,” he says, in a low, uneven voice, sweat breaking out along his brow. “Because I have a feeling that I’m going to fuck you so hard, a few of them are going to break.”
Lust makes my knees wobble, my balance teetering. Goodness. “IfI let you.”
His eyes glaze over. “Yes. If you let me.”
“You cannot let the condom break, Barry,” I whisper.
A line forms between his brows. He studies me, openly curious about my adamant tone. “If one breaks, I’ll pull out and we’ll put on another one.”
“You promise?”
He’s only again locked in on the juncture of my thighs, pupils dilated. “I promise I’ll try.” He stuffs the condoms back in the bag. “Pulling out of you isn’t going to be some easy thing, Petra.”
“How do you know?”
