Burn Down the Night (Everything I Left Unsaid #3)- Molly O'Keefe Page 0,34
I needed.
I made a sad little moue with my lips, but I was stroking the top of my breast, my fingers playing with my nipple. Just a little. Just enough. He couldn’t look away.
I owned him. And the fact that he wanted me like this—despite his best effort not to—I liked it. I liked him a little better because he would rather have a real fight than a fake sex show.
Interesting. Very…interesting.
That thick wild honey was back in my veins.
He was sucking in air like there wasn’t enough of it. And that beast between his legs. It was alive again, hard under the plaid cotton of his underwear, arching up toward his belly.
“So,” I said, leaning back against the dresser, feeling back in control. “How about you cut the crap and tell me what you want.”
“I want you to touch yourself the way you like,” he said. “I want to see what gets you off. I don’t want a show, Joan. I don’t want to see what every guy who could pay the cover charge got to see. I want what you don’t show other people. I want to see you.”
And just like that, he took me out at the knees.
“That’s not for sale,” I said. A small point of pride that, that had never been for sale. Me, the real me was not up for grabs. There were rumors about me at the club. About the girls I liked to fuck. I had men offer me thousands of dollars to watch me work another girl. But I never said yes. I’d strip and I’d spread and I’d pretend to get off on it, but none of it would be for me.
None of it would actually be me.
I made up the name Joan for a reason. Who I was, who I really was, had been buried deep in the last seven months and now…he wanted me to start digging her out.
A few things, not much, had to be private. And my pleasure—authentic and real—was one thing I kept to myself.
“The fuck it’s not,” he said. “You want my help. You need my help. So tell me what you like.”
How the fuck had he done this? He was handcuffed to the bed! I was in control—his eyes were glued to me. Why was I considering opening up my chest and pulling out my secrets to show him?
Don’t, I wanted to tell myself. You’re better than this. He’ll make it cheap or lurid.
Give him Joan. Keep Olivia safe.
“Joan?” he said like my window was closing.
“You want to know what I like?”
“It’s the only thing I want.”
“A stacked blonde with a strap on,” I spat at him.
He sucked in a breath. The beast in his underwear twitched.
“What else?”
“Two guys,” I said, pulling up some old masturbatory favorites. “One in my mouth, the other in my pussy.”
“More.”
“You. That night at the club. Watching me. Remember?”
He sucked in a breath. My skin was so hot under his gaze, I could barely stand it. “Oh, I fucking remember.”
He jerked his head back, his cheeks flushed, and fuck if I wasn’t into it again. This guy, this fucking guy. It was a chemistry thing between us, something animal and base. Unreasonable.
“That night, I left the stage and I thought you’d come find me. I was waiting for you to come find me. But you didn’t.”
He shook his head. All tight and restrained. Controlled. Oh God, I loved that. I wanted to pull at those restraints. I wanted to unravel them, one by one, and see what would happen.
“It’s a rule,” he said. “About fucking around where the club does business.”
“And you don’t break your rules?” I asked.
He shook his head.
Oh, I thought, we are going to break all kinds of rules tonight.
“Show me your cock.”
“Show me you’re wet,” he shot back.
I sat back against the dresser again and pushed aside the bikini bottoms, splitting my lips so he could see the pink folds, wet and swollen.
He pushed down his boxers and showed me his cock. Hard and pink. Thick, the head flushed nearly purple with blood.
My mouth watered.
My pussy watered.
“You want to know what I want? I want you to make yourself come,” he said. “Not for me. For you. I just want to see it.”
“Why? The show is prettier….” I whispered because I wanted to resist it. I was going to do it. I was going to come in this room in the next few minutes with his eyes on me. But I didn’t understand why