Holding My Breath. AM Hartnett
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He gave a low, rumbling laugh that danced over her shoulders. ‘Just hear me out. Give me until New Year’s Eve. Just another month and change, and that’s all.’
His breath beat against her cheek. She could feel it penetrate the skin and soak into her. It wasn’t as though he had any sort of grip on her; she could have moved aside and just evaded him, but it was as though that hand on her hip was an anchor he used to keep her against him.
She tried not to think of what he said about ‘unlocking’ a woman. She pushed it out of her head and pulled in a deep breath.
‘Why New Year’s Eve? Is that your busiest night?’
‘I’m not a pizza delivery man,’ he replied with laughter that skimmed over her ear. ‘New Year’s Eve is my last night. As in, I’m retiring after that.’
She turned her head just slightly. ‘Are you serious?’
‘Completely. I turn thirty-six on New Year’s Eve. I’ve been planning this night for a long time, and I would consider it a personal favour if you would let me have it unscathed.’
Molly opened her mouth to say something, but quickly discovered that she couldn’t come up with anything. She overflowed with questions that had only been slinking around her consciousness since she first noticed him all those months ago.
Only one poured out: ‘How long have you been doing this?’
‘Half my life. I started when I was eighteen.’ He squeezed his fingers into the swell of her hip. ‘Please, look the other way for six weeks, and then you’ll never see me again.’
‘Why should I?’
Molly went still as he dropped his chin on her shoulder.
‘We could come to some sort of arrangement,’ he said quietly.
‘Are you trying to bribe me?’ she scoffed. ‘Offering to cut me in or something?’
‘Or something. I like that.’ he murmured, wrapping his words around her as he said it again.
Or something.
The significance of ‘or something’ stole her objection. Delivered in such a soft, coaxing voice and mingling with the heat bleeding through her clothes, ‘or something’ swept her as far away as possible from what she knew she should do this moment.
He slid one hand forward until it lay flat on her stomach, and what little space left between them was closed.
‘You can tell me what you want, or you can show me.’
She turned her head and felt the heat from his mouth at the corner of hers. ‘I want you to take the money.’
He made a fist, bunching the front of her dress and tugging it up just a little, until the hem rubbed mid-thigh. Holding her at the nape of her neck, he nuzzled the sensitive slope. Only the faintest burn of bristle scraped against the skin, enough to raise goosebumps on her arms and legs.
‘And?’
She touched her tongue to her teeth. She hadn’t brought him here for this, but that ‘or something’ had made all the difference.
‘Or something’ had roused the wicked part of herself she hadn’t forgotten about and missed dreadfully. It whispered to her that no one would ever find out, and even if they did wouldn’t it be worth it? When would she have an opportunity like this again?
He propped his chin on her shoulder again. ‘What do you really want from me?’
She sucked in a breath in an attempt to claw back the words creeping over her tongue, but it was no use. ‘I want you to take my money and fuck me.’
‘That’s better,’ he said, and pressed his knee between her legs.
Molly was rendered breathless. Just a nudge, and she felt as though he had completely exposed her.
‘I’ll take your money,’ he went on. ‘Show it to me. Count it out.’
‘Don’t you trust me?’
‘I do. You’ve got a face I can trust, but I like experiencing a woman laying her money out. You can practically feel the temperature rising with each bill laid on top of another. Go on. Count it out for me.’
The tips of her fingers grew hot as she reached into her purse and drew out the fat envelope tucked between her wallet and cosmetics bag. As she scratched free the strip of tape that held the envelope closed, her skirt inched a little further up, nearly to her hipbones.
He pushed against her, the tip of his cock poking just above her ass. ‘Count.’
‘One hundred,’ she began, pulling out one bill and letting it flutter to the surface of the end table. ‘Two hundred …’
On and on she counted, one bill after another. Her hands began to tremble and her voice grew thick as she pushed it from the back of her throat. She glanced longingly aside to the water they had both been sipping, then lost the thought as he dug his fingertips into her.
‘You’re almost there.’ His words urged her on, but his actions only made it harder to speak.
The last bill fell, making a total of three thousand dollars, and with it she shuddered. His grip on the back of her neck eased but he didn’t withdraw.
‘There we go,’ he said, lips moving just below her ear. ‘It takes a certain kind of woman to pay for a hard cock. The best kind, in my opinion. Then again, I am a tad biased.’
The sting of his teeth pinched her skin, just long enough to give his words a punch. Molly was completely defenceless as he slipped the other hand down and grasped her skirt. She couldn’t conjure a single objection as he dragged the thick woollen dress over her head. She raised her arms and expelled a sigh as the room went dark.
His words continued as he let the dress drop to her feet in front of her. ‘The thought of using me usually gets a woman wet. I’m just a hard dick to ride, but that’s not what’s pushing your buttons, is it? It’s that you’re just a pussy to me. You’re just something to fuck, just like me.’
She gave her head a shake as he turned her around, but what was there to object to? Her entire body rebelled against her, silencing her sensible side. She reached between them and yanked the buttons of his jacket, then pushed it over his shoulders. As the garment bunched at his elbows, it struck Molly that in spite of his submissive expression his look was feral.
She took a long look down his body. As she met his gaze, her mouth split into a grin, and she reached between his thighs.
So it wasn’t just the swagger, after all.
‘“Just a hard dick”? It doesn’t feel like “just a hard dick” to me.’
Molly closed her hand around the hard column and watched his face as she kneaded its length. He gave no reaction, until she reached the tip that tented against his fly, and pressed her thumb to it. A puff of air and a slight crease on his brow let her know he was enjoying this as much as she was.
She plucked at his buttons until the shirt fell open. The expanse of his chest appeared to her a little at a time until the shirt was free. For a moment she was astounded at how glorious he looked. She grasped the bunched fabric and hung on, anchored with him in the chaos of her beating heart.
When he opened his mouth to speak again, Molly reached up behind his head and pulled him down. She needed a reprieve from those delectable words that ignited her like a tongue teasing between her legs. He bowed towards her, and Molly bent forward, mouth watering with the need to taste him.
At first there was only his $300 cologne surrounding her, reminding her how he made his money.
You’re just something to fuck, just like me.
There it was, that salt and heat she’d craved. She swiped her tongue over his pectoral,