“Sit.”
I sit on the coffee table behind me.
“Lie back.”
“I’m not a dog.”
“Lie back, Melissa.”
I do as he says and immediately, I feel his knees between mine, nudging my legs apart. I startle when a moment later, cool liquid spills on me and when I look at its source, I find him pouring the contents of his whiskey glass on my sex.
He meets my eyes and his are black now, only ringed in blue and green. I can’t look away from them as liquid slides down between my lower lips, the sensation erotic.
Although maybe it’s the way he’s looking at me while doing it.
When he touches my knee, I gasp. But he just pushes it wider, eyes on me as he does. He shifts his gaze slowly down to my pussy, takes both ankles and sets my feet up on the coffee table so I’m completely open to him.
He stands, a giant looming over me. He picks up the bottle of whisky, brings it to my breasts, tilts it. It takes just a few cool drops on each nipple and they’re hard.
When he sets the bottle down, he leans over me, places his hands on the table on either side of me, bracing his weight, caging me in, and, eyes locked on mine, he licks the whiskey off one breast, then the other.
I grip the edges of the coffee table to keep from grabbing hold of him. I’m not sure if I’d push him away or pull him closer.
He straightens, crouches between my legs and slides his tongue over my belly and down to my sex. I can’t breathe. All I can do is watch him as he watches me. When I don’t close my legs, he slides his tongue through my folds, and I hear the shudder of my breath as he licks the whiskey.
As he licks me.
His breath is warm, his tongue wet and tickling my clit while the scruff of his jaw scratches me. I close my eyes, grip the edges of the table and find myself arching my back, lifting into him. Wanting him.
But then he pulls away.
Sits back on the couch and refills his glass, eyes on me, his erection a steel rod in his pants.
“Whiskey and pussy are two of my favorite things in the world,” he says.
I release my grip on the table, begin to close my knees, but he stops me.
“Stay. Just like this. Knees wide. I want to see.”
11
Melissa
The next hour is torture.
He drinks his whiskey and pushes buttons on his phone, and he could be playing a crossword puzzle for all I know while I lie here, whiskey sticky between my legs.
What he did, it was a tease. And I know he did it on purpose. Leaving me like that. And I want his mouth back on me, sucking my clit, dipping inside me. I want him to make me come.
He’s still hard, but he won’t touch me. Is this to prove some point? Because all it’s doing is pissing me off.
But I can’t admit that. I won’t.
Is that what he wants? For me to ask for it? Beg him for it? Because he seems perfectly content to just look at me every now and then between whatever’s got his attention on his phone.
It feels like an eternity when the thing finally rings and, after a quick glance at it, he stands, his expression darkening.
“Go have a shower,” he tells me, the phone still ringing in his hand. Without a backward glance, he walks into another room. I hear him talking just before he closes the door and I sit up, feeling ignored and annoyed.
Is this all I’m here for? For him to play with me?
But what do I expect? He owns me. He just paid me a deposit.
I shake the thought away, stand up, walk to the bedroom and when I switch on the lights, the windows tint. I’m glad because even though we’re on the top floor of the building, I feel like everyone can see me.
I have a shower and towel-dry my hair, then walk back to the living room but when I pass the door he disappeared into, I hear his raised voice. He’s pissed.
“What do you mean, small setback? This is going to cost me months!”
Silence, as I guess whoever is on the other end says something. When that silence is followed by the sound of a fist being slammed into a wall, I quickly retreat to the bedroom and climb into the bed.
I wonder who he’s talking to and why he’s so pissed off. I think I don’t ever want to see that side of him. Not directed at me, at least.
I consider switching out the lights and trying to sleep, but I won’t be able to. I’m too wound up. I get up, grab my phone out of my tote and check for messages. There aren’t any.
When I’m walking back to the bed, I notice a book lying open and face down on the dresser.
I pick it up, read the title. I don’t recognize it. I open it, meaning to flip through to read the first few pages when a photograph falls out.
I bend to pick it up. It’s a photo of an older man with his arm around a younger woman and beside them stands a man who resembles Hawk. He’s got a baby in his arms and the woman, I assume the baby’s mother, has her face turned to the baby. A little hand has got a fistful of her hair and she’s trying to loosen it.
I turn it over to look to see if it has a date, but there isn’t one and when I look at it again, I have to smile at the woman’s expression.
I’m so engrossed that I don’t hear him come in.
“Are you going through my private things?”
I’m so startled when he snatches the photo out of my hands that I almost don’t understand what he says. I don’t know if it’s the anger in his tone or something else that makes his accent suddenly so much heavier and his voice so much deeper. Like a roar. Like he sounded when he was talking on the phone.
“I wasn’t going through your things,” I quickly defend. Was I? No. It was right there. On top of the dresser.
He looks at the photo, his face darkening a little.
I stare up at him. When he shifts his gaze to me, glaring down at me, I find myself stepping backward, not realizing the bed is at my back until my knees it it.
“Did this just jump out of the drawer at you, then?”
I shake my head, confused, taken aback. And scared. “The book was on the dresser. It fell out. I wouldn’t—”
But before I can finish, he leans down, takes me by the throat and hauls me up to tip-toe.
“Hawk!” I grip his forearm but he’s too big. Too strong. And his fingers, they’re squeezing too tight.
“You will respect my privacy.”
I slap at his arm, his chest. God. Does he know how hard he’s squeezing? Does he know I can’t breathe? Can’t make a sound.
It feels like an eternity passes and the edges of my vision begin to darken like an old-fashioned photograph before he finally releases me.
I drop onto the bed.
I gasp for breath, clutching my neck, knowing I’ll have bruises in the shape of his giant hand.
He stares down at me and I stare back, mute.
The rage on his face, it’s a terrifying thing. Like the beast has been let out of the cage. No. Like it’s chewed through the bars in its rage and is on a rampage now. A murderous rampage.
Then, just as quickly as it came, it’s gone.
His expression changes and for a moment, I swear it’s like it wasn’t him just then. Because that man I just saw, I’d never have made a deal with him.
I’d never get in his bed.
No, I’d run like hell from that man.
But then, without a word, he turns his back and stalks away, into the bathroom, locking the door, leaving me trembling on his bed.
12
Hawk
I stand under the shower letting the spray hit me in the face, the water cold as ice.
The look in her eyes. That terrified look. The feel of her delicate neck in my hand. Her hands falling away as I strangled her.
Christ.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I shake my head, try to clear away the image, but it’s impossible.
No personal effects.
That photo is a personal effect. Am I going to have to lock every drawer?
<
br /> I switch off the water. I’m fucking freezing now.
I dry off, my mind wandering back to the phone call. Jack telling me the deal didn’t go through. Jack telling me to be careful.
I’m close.
Too close for it all to get fucked up.
I walk back into the bedroom to find her sitting on the bed much like she was yesterday. Like a terrified little girl.
Fuck.
This night has gone straight to hell.
Her gaze is locked on me and she pulls away when I sit on the bed. Bruises are already darkening her neck.
When I reach out to touch her, she flinches.
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
“You already did.”
I grit my teeth, but I accept that. I own it.
“I can’t fight you,” she says. “You’re stronger than me even without trying.”
“Don’t look through my things and you won’t have to worry about it.”
“I wasn’t looking through your things. I wouldn’t. It fell out of the book that was on top of the dresser.”
I switch out the light. Was it? I’m usually more careful with things.
“Lie down and go to sleep.”
She switches the light back on on her side. “What happened? Why did you get so angry?”
This is unexpected.
I give a little snort. “No personal effects, remember?”
“It was a photograph.”
“Shut off the light and go to sleep.” I lie down and turn my back to her.
“Was it the phone call?”
I roll to face her. “Were you eavesdropping too?”
“No. I just came out into the hall after my shower and you sounded pissed. I came right back in here.”
“Good. Don’t eavesdrop.” I roll away again.
“I can’t do this if you turn into this…this…monster when I do something I don’t even know will piss you off!”
I get up, reach over her, eyes boring in to her and switch off the light. “Go. To. Sleep.”
It’s on again before my head hits the pillow.
“No.”
I ignore her, close my eyes. But then she shoves at my shoulder.
“Get up!”
“You’re getting on my nerves, Melissa.”
“I’m sorry to get on your nerves but you scared the crap out of me. You almost killed me, Hawk!”
“I didn’t almost kill you.”
“I couldn’t breathe!”
“It won’t happen again.”
“You’re right about that,” she says with an attempt at putting steel into those words. “Get up.”
I chuckle. It’s funny, this. Her trying to command me.
“I mean it.” She shoves again, harder this time.
“Christ,” I say, turning, grabbing her wrist. “You want me up? I’m up. Now what?”
She tries to pull away but when I don’t let her, she shoves at me with her free arm.
“I thought you said you couldn’t fight me,” I say, taking her other wrist and just catching her knee between my thighs when she goes for my balls.
“You’re used to people jumping when you say jump, but I’m not one of those people.”
“Like hell you’re not. Let me explain something to you.” I rise up, pin her to the bed and loom over her. I watch her eyes as she takes me in. “I own you. For the next thirty days, you are mine. You belong to me.”
“Get off me.”
“The balance of power is tipped in my favor, Melissa. That’s what this is about. That’s what that hefty deposit into your account ensures. You do as I say, not the other way around and you know it.”
“Fuck you.”
She tries again to knee me, but I’m faster than her.
“And you’re right, I am a man used to getting what I want. Exactly what I want. And you will learn to jump when I say jump. Hell, when it even looks like I’m about to utter the word jump.”
“You’re dreaming.”
“I don’t think so. And just to be clear, I want you to fight back. You should always fight back. But don’t ever knee me in the balls. That’s dirty fighting and I won’t forgive it.”
“What happened, Hawk? Why did you get so angry?”
I loosen my grip on her, let her free, let her push against me so I’m on my back and she’s on top of me. “Leave it alone, Melissa.”
She shifts her weight and I wonder if she realizes her pussy’s rubbing against my abs. And lower. Does she have any idea what that’s doing to me?
“What are you scared I’ll see?” she asks, straddling me, hands on my chest.
I don’t know if she thinks she’s keeping me down or what, but she’s leaning her full weight into her hands.
What I do know is that one little shift from me and she gasps, her eyes growing huge in the precise moment she feels my dick between her ass cheeks. It takes all I have not to laugh at her surprised, almost comical expression.
She’s quick to roll off me, but we just tumble again, me taking her arms, stretching them wide, her twisting this way and that, me letting her get free. Back and forth and back and forth and for as little as she is, she’s got some fight in her.
“Tell me. What are you afraid I’ll see,” she asks when I’ve got her pinned, her energy finally spent so she’s left panting for breath.
I look down at her, at her pretty little mouth, her perfect breasts. I slip one knee between hers and spread her thighs.
She twists, pulling at her arms, but I keep her pinned.
“Take my advice, Melissa,” I start, rubbing my cock between her folds. “Leave it alone.”
Her pupils are dilated and she’s wet, but she’s gone quiet.
I watch her mouth open when I test. When I push inside her slowly, just the head of my cock and fuck she’s warm and tight. Like a snug glove perfectly made just for me. One I’m desperate to slide into.
I should wait. I should wait until I have the results. This could be a big mistake. But I can’t. No way.
It’s just a little taste. Just a dip into that wet heat.
Fuck.
She stares up at me and bites her lip. I switch my grip and intertwine my fingers with hers. I feel her hold tight to me, nails digging into me.
“I want you,” I say through gritted teeth.
I push deeper, slow and deliberate and we’re so close, our faces not an inch apart, our bodies touching, connected. I start to move inside her and she arches her back—at least momentarily.
I let go of one of her hands, cradle her head instead. Gentle still. I don’t want to scare her off.
“Melissa,” I’m half way in and she’s so fucking tight, and all I want to do is ram into her. I won’t be able to stop soon. Fuck. I don’t think I can stop now.
Her free hand is on my shoulder but she’s not tearing skin tonight. Just a few more inches, just a few more and her whimper makes me harder. When she licks her lips, fuck, I can’t take it.
I thrust the last inches and she cries out, but I set my elbow at her shoulder and draw back a little to thrust again. One hard, short thrust and she exhales with it, with the force of it.
When I find my rhythm and I’m fucking her, she clings to me, as if on a sheer rock face clinging for dear life. When I feel the walls of her pussy tremble and pulse. I watch her face, her eyes gleaming, mouth open, head thrown back, the softest sound coming from her.
I pull out then, trap my cock between us and I come. My cock pulses ropes of it wet on her, on me, pleasure throbbing through me as she watches me, and I watch her, unable to drag my gaze from hers.
13
Melissa
It’s suddenly cold when he slides off me and goes into the bathroom. I hear water running and a few minutes later, he returns. He’s cleaned himself and now cleans me with a warm washcloth.
“I can do that.” I try to take the cloth from him.
“Stay,” he says like a caveman.
When he’s finished
cleaning me, he goes back into the bathroom to get rid of the towel before returning and switching out the light. He lies down beside me.
I turn my back to him, meaning to slide to the other side of the bed, but he wraps his big arm around me and pulls me to him. He holds me there, tight against his chest.
He doesn’t say a word, he doesn’t let me go, not for a second and all I can think is how warm he is. How soft his skin is over all that muscle and I find myself melting into him. Again, this feeling of something solid at my back. Something safe.
I should pull away. This is too close. But when I try, he just tightens his grip.
“Sleep,” he says as if he hears my thoughts, hears the chaos in my mind.
And I do as he says because in a way, it’s nice, this. Someone to look after me, even in the context of this strange arrangement. Even if he doesn’t know it or realize it.
But am I safe here? His temper, I got a glimpse of it tonight. It’s fierce, like him. He’s volatile and I can’t forget for a moment how dangerous he is.
And then there’s this. Him like this, his arm around me, his body curled around mine, holding me. Is it stupid to say protecting me? I know it’s just in my head. I have to remember that I am a warm body to him. One he paid to have in his bed.
His comment about the imbalance, the inequality of our relationship, he’s right. I can try to deny it all I want. I can try to hide from it, but it’s the truth.
He bought me.
He owns me.
I push that thought aside and just let myself feel this, feel safe, just for a little while. Just for one month.
Because as long as I’m his, I’m safe from Sean. And I have to remember that’s the reason I’m doing this.
What happens after the month is over?
I force that thought away too. I just want to sleep. I want to forget and sleep and feel safe.
Safe in the bed of this beast.
I’m alone when I wake the next morning, just like the last time I woke up here. And I’m tired. Heavy with sleep and maybe the wine or just Hawk’s sudden and immense presence in my life.
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