Burn Down the Night (Everything I Left Unsaid #3)- Molly O'Keefe Page 0,32
his head again.
“You want some painkillers?” I asked.
“I want you to let me go!” He rattled the handcuffs. He closed his eyes and sighed. “Yeah, I came back for Dylan. So I get it and you know something, part of me respects this fucked-up, dangerous plan of yours. But I want no part of it. So unchain me and I’ll go. No harm, no foul.”
“I let you go and you won’t kill me?” I asked, not believing him for a minute.
“I was never going to kill you.”
“Right,” I laughed. “You were only going to beat the shit out of me?”
“I was going to fuck the shit out of you.”
I sucked in a breath and it burned in my lungs. My pussy clenched, liking the idea.
Here it was, my opening.
I spread my legs again, giving him a good long look. “How about I fuck the shit out of you,” I whispered.
The air in the room changed. It got thicker. Hotter. I had to open my mouth to fill my lungs. This was moving faster than I’d thought. I hadn’t expected to want this like I did.
“What are you saying, Joan?” He spoke slowly, softly, as if he could sense the change in the air like I could. I watched his chest rise and fall a few times. The muscles in his belly under all those tattoos clenched and flexed and released like it was work.
I felt the same way. Breathing in this hot thick air took effort.
We were panting and we hadn’t even touched.
He licked his lips like he could taste me. And my head felt heavy on my neck. My body felt heavy.
This strange, dangerous desire was honey in my veins.
Jeez. Now, who was the stupid, simple creature?
“I’m saying, help me and I’ll make it worth the effort.”
His eyelids lowered over those blue eyes, giving him a sexy slumberous look that was like catnip to me. I felt my own eyelids do the same. We were two fucking animals eyeing each other up. It shouldn’t be sexy.
But it was.
Because it was dangerous and wrong and that was just the way I liked my sex. This was my favorite flavor.
“Rumor around the club was you only like women,” he said.
I shrugged, dropping my face toward my shoulder, a practiced look that men liked. My bisexuality and what I liked about women versus what I like about men was complicated and none of his business.
But when it came to sex, I was equal opportunity.
“I do like women,” I said. “But I like men, too.”
I let my fingers toy with the tiny scrap of fabric over my breast. I ran my thumb over my nipple so that it stood out hard and he could see it.
“You think your pussy is so special that it will convince me to risk my life to go get your sister?”
“I’m not asking you to risk your life and go get my sister. I’m asking you to make a phone call. That’s it. And yeah, I think my pussy is that special.”
I pushed myself off the edge of the dresser, but still leaned back against it, because I wasn’t stupid enough to get close to him. Not yet. I ran my fingers down from my breast to the white scrap of fabric of the bikini bottoms and I pressed my finger against my slit, pushing the fabric into it so he could see the outline of the lips of my pussy.
And the small damp spot, because I was turned on despite knowing better.
On the bed, his erection was pushing at the boxers he wore. He was turned on, too. Despite himself. Despite the pain or maybe because of it.
Maybe this was his favorite flavor, too. Desperate and mercenary and wrong.
“My pussy,” I said. “My mouth. My ass. I’m pretty special, Max.”
“Show me.”
I blinked.
“Show me that special pussy. Those tits. Show me your ass.”
A show. I was good at shows. But nothing was free.
“My sister—”
“You want a phone call? We can talk about that.”
“I need some kind of guarantee.”
“You’re not going to get it. You’re just going to have to trust me.”
Trust him? Impossible. There was no trust in me.
He stroked his dick with his free hand. “I want you, Joan. I’ve wanted you for months and you’ve wanted me. I promise I’ll talk to you about your sister. Now fucking show me something.”
I had no idea if I could trust him, but fuck it. This was a crack in his armor. A possible way in. My shot.