His Pawn

by Emily Snow

  "Wow," Allene laughs then sighs. "Care to elaborate on that one because I’ve been saying that for years?"

  "I don't even think it needs elaboration. It's good to fuck, healthy to get it out of your system, and our company makes fucking ... better. Our clients know they can come to us with any fantasy, any desire, and we'll make it a reality without ever judging. This is going to sound cliché, but there’s no such thing as too extreme—not when there are consenting adults involved."

  Even though I know for a fact we don't have a company manual, heat still races straight to my core. The way he said those words, in a sinfully low voice, likely has half the women listening on our website now to see if the man has autographed the chrome dildos.

  “Do you apply your own philosophies to your own sex life?” Allene questions him, and his chuckle slides beneath my skin, wrapping around my core and giving it a harsh pump.

  “Always.”

  But that’s not the truth, and I nibble on my bottom lip as his words—there’s no such thing as too extreme when there are consenting adults involved—echo through my head. I want him to say those words directly to me and then act on them. Because we’re both adults. Because for the first time in my life, I don’t want to be professional.

  I just want him.

  Groaning, I drag my hands through my hair and try like hell to focus on the rest of the show as Allene accepts calls from her listeners. I push aside the chaotic mixture of disappointment and uncertainty that’s churning in the pit of my stomach, listening intently as Jace charms everyone he speaks to for the next twenty minutes. I’m relieved that neither Griff or Ash are among the callers, and when Jace returns to the hospitality room after the set, I’m grinning like an idiot because I’m so proud of the way he handled himself.

  “You were perfect!” I grab my purse and head toward him. We meet halfway, his boots bumping against the suede toes of my black pumps. "I thought you didn't like interviews.”

  “I never said that, love.” He gives me a strained smile and lifts his hand toward my face. For a second, I swear he’s going to touch me again. I want him to. Crave his hands on my skin. But then he makes a fist and drops his arms to his side. "I don’t like personal questions, but I can talk about fucking all day."

  Except for when it comes to me. Lovely.

  Swallowing hard, I follow him as he walks toward the elevator. "Isn't talking about your sex life about as personal as it gets?"

  He steps into the elevator car when the doors glide open. "It's the part of myself I don't mind sharing.” Skimming his fingers through his dark hair, he lifts taut shoulders. “Now, get in. I need to get you home.”

  He’s painfully silent for the first hour of the trip back to Boston, and I convince myself that he'll simply ignore the electricity humming all around us. He’s done it before. I’ve spent most of the quiet ride coming to terms with the fact I’ll open my nightstand drawer when I get home. I’ll find my vibrator. And as I tighten my sex around it, biting my lip hard so I won’t make a sound, I’ll think of Jace.

  “Lucy,” he says roughly, drawing me from my thoughts. He doesn’t rip his focus from I-90 to acknowledge me with his eyes. "Seeing your lips wrap around the word fuck made me want to put my cock in every hole in your body."

  My eyes widen as his narrow. "I’m sorry, what?”

  "You heard me the first time, and I'm not going to sugarcoat it for you. You told me I confuse you, but I don’t think it’s confusing at all.” Heat wiggles through me because that accent that had commanded my attention when I was a child is on full display now. “Every time you walk into my office in one of those fancy shirts that have no place in a workshop, every time you give me shit—dammit, every time I look at you—I want to fuck you."

  “I—”

  “Close your mouth for a second, Williams, and listen,” he interrupts, flashing his hot stare in my direction. I press the heel of my palm to my throat and nod. “I’ve wanted a taste of your cunt since the day you came to class in that black skirt with all the silly buttons running along the—”

  “Jace.” I hold up one hand to stop him, my fingers shaking. A muscle ticks in his jaw, but he lets me finish this time. “Are you talking about high school right now?”

  “What other time did you wear that skirt around me?” he demands. I clamp my eyes shut, vividly remembering the outfit he’s talking about. I’d worn it only once—along with a fluffy red sweater for yearbook photos our junior year. I’d swapped outfits with Jamie by the end of the day, but I still recall how Jace had looked at the sweater and skirt combo with narrowed eyes and quirked lips. At the time, I figured he saw my outfit as the most pathetic attempt at trendiness he’d ever seen, but now I know different.

  Now, I know—

  I hug my arms around my waist and suck in a breath. “You wanted me in high school?” I ask numbly, earning a growl from the man beside me.

  "And I want you now. I’ve never wanted a woman so much, and it drives me fucking insane that it’s you. I keep telling myself that it will pass, that all I need is another distraction. Then you do or say something that tests me and it’s like I’m eighteen again, back in that fucking classroom, wishing you’d hurry past me because the sight of you got my cock rock hard.”

  Sweet baby Jesus, why is he telling me this? Of all the things for him to say, why would he reveal that he’s been attracted to me for at least eleven years? I grip my collar and hesitantly move closer to him. "So … what are we going to do about it?”

  Because we’ve reached the point where nothing is doing more harm than good.

  Clenching his jaw, he raps his fingertips anxiously on the steering wheel. Each tap speeds up my pulse, my heartbeat, until I’m on the verge of exploding. “I want to say we won’t do a goddamn thing,” he says at last, turning his head slightly so that his blue eyes lock with mine. “But I’m not sure that’s possible anymore.”

  I don’t want him to follow me inside when we return to the workshop, but he ignores my request. Waiting for me to grab some paperwork from my office, he stands in the doorway with his toned arms folded across his chest. I can feel his gaze wandering over my profile, and I pray that he moves. That he goes somewhere—anywhere—else in this building so I won’t have to confront him as I leave. But when I turn off the light to and start to head out, he’s still standing there.

  He steps in front of me to block the exit, and I square my shoulders. “Goodnight, Jace,” I say. He moves close to me, and I shiver the second his hands brush my shoulders. He trails them down my arms, pressing the pads of his thumbs to the pulse points in my inner elbows, before finally closing his fingers around my wrists.

  "You smell good.” He leans his nose to my hair, inhaling and every muscle in my body seizes. “I don’t think clearly when I smell you.”

  “I need to get home, remember?” Staring down at the sliver of space between our bodies, I tighten my fists until my nails dig painfully into my palms. “What I don’t need is you telling me you want me one second and then telling me you can’t the next. I can’t do that.”

  “Look at me.” When I don’t, he releases one of my wrists and cups my face, tilting it up, so I have no other choice but to obey. Electricity hums between us, thick and overwhelming.

  “Why?” I clear my throat to dissolve the lump lodged between my heart and the back of my throat, the one that makes my voice sound so soft and weak. “So you can tell me again what you can’t and won’t do for the sake of—”

  His mouth comes crashing down on mine, drawing me in for a long kiss that makes it impossible for me to think of anything other than the desire crackling through me. A soft moan escapes my lips, which Jace takes as an invitation to deepen the kiss, his tongue ravaging mine as it slips in and out of my mouth. I mold against him, my body on fire, and we’re both breathless when he draws away.

  "I’ve told you that I want you, that I need to fuck you, but before we do this I want to hear it from you." I try to glance away again, so
his fingers leave my face, curling into my black hair. I let out a throaty gasp as his eyes go to war with mine. "I want to hear you say it.”

  “So you can add it to your list of things that I say and do that drive you crazy?” I demand, but he shakes his head. Wraps my hair around his large hand. Moves his lips so close that our breath becomes one.

  “I want to hear it so I can fuck you without regrets.”

  Desire snaps through me, and I’m glad he’s holding on to me to keep me from stumbling when my knees buckle. “I want you, Jace.” I start to lick my lips, but his tongue darts out, tracing the outline of my mouth for me. He pulls away, leaving me dizzy. “I want you, I want you. I don’t care if it’s for one night, I just—”

  “That’s all I need to know, Lucy.”

  NINETEEN

  LUCY

  In the back of my mind, I know I should rethink this situation, to tell him that I just lied to him—I do care if it’s just one night—but I don’t. Because a stronger, more powerful force drives us across the workshop, to the same room he took photos of me in. And I can’t stop myself from taking what he’s offering with his hands, his lips, and his rock hard erection pressed up against the wetness between my thighs.

  “We should,” I rasp against his mouth. “We should…”

  "You should let me fuck you, love," he whispers, his voice rough and demanding. "Everything else can wait, but this..." He shoves my hand to his cock through his jeans, squeezing my fingers around his shaft. A harsh sound pushes past my lips because he’s big. Big and thick, and growing even more beneath my fingertips. “I’m not waiting for this anymore. You’ve made it impossible to.”

  “What do you want me to do?” I hear myself whisper in a breathy voice that sounds detached from my body. I keep my gaze zeroed in on his, pumping my fingers over the coarse fabric of his jeans in my need to feel him. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

  "I want you to come, Lucy. I want to hear you scream my name. Want to feel your nails down my back. Want to feel your cunt and mouth throbbing around my dick." He wedges his fingers between my thighs, cupping my sex until I shudder around him. Nobody’s ever spoken to me like this or touched me so boldly, and it shoots fire down my spine. He lowers his forehead to mine and growls, “But first I want to taste your pussy.”

  My core tightens, and when he moves his hand from my thighs, I can feel my panties clinging to my sex. “Now?” I rasp. He lifts his broad shoulder as he drags his tee shirt over his head, and before I can stop myself, I splay my fingers over the roses and tribal art tattoo spanning his chest. “Why shrug?”

  “Why rush?” He twists me around to face one of the metal bedposts, releasing a wicked chuckle in my ear when I wrap my fingers around it and hold on tight. "I've wanted to see you do this since you walked into my office and I realized who you were,” he murmurs into my ear, his warm breath fanning the nape of my neck, my shoulder blades, my hair. “And I wanted you well before that, too.”

  "So did I," I admit on a soft, whimpering sigh. His lips connect with the tender flesh under my left ear lobe. My head falls back as his tongue leaves a hot path along my skin.

  "You have no idea how many times I’ve wanted to spread you on my desk or your desk or in the break room and lick you until you came.” Reaching around, he cups my face, turning my head to the side, so I’m looking over my shoulder and into his stormy eyes. “Tonight, I’ll get to do that.”

  “We’re not at my desk or the break room, Jace,” I point out softly, and he responds by squeezing my center, grinding his fingertips over the fabric and panties separating him from my sex. The friction leaves me gasping for air.

  “Not now we’re not, but you never know where I’ll fuck you later.”

  His softly-spoken words curl my toes, blur my senses, soak beneath my skin, but I don’t have time to catch my breath. Grasping my hip with one hand, he tilts my face to the side until he has full access to my mouth. He crashes his lips down on mine in a kiss meant to shatter me to pieces. It does. Oh god, it does, and my body is in flames as he drowns out my moans with his tongue and teeth.

  I love this. I love the sensation of his cock pressed against my ass and the way his tattooed fingers grip my breasts just before they trail a path down my sleeves to intertwine with mine on the metal post. The pads of this thumb graze the sensitive skin on the insides of my wrists, but he holds me still when my knees threaten to buckle from the pleasure exploding in my veins.

  "Do you like how that feels?" His erection pushes harder against my backside so that the front of my body presses against the cool metal for support.

  I bob my head. “Yes.”

  "Are you ready for me to taste you, love?" His voice is a dangerous growl as he moves my hands up and over my head where he holds my wrists captive in one of his while the other works against the front of my blouse. After a few moments, he gets restless. A groan rips from the back of his throat as my buttons scatter across the floor, falling around our feet, but I don’t care.

  Not when rough fingertips slide beneath the starched fabric of my shirt. They spread over my soft skin, gripping one breast possessively and then the other. Jace nudges my earlobe playfully with the tip of his nose. “Do you want my tongue on your pussy?”

  "Yes!" I buck against him, releasing a strangled noise the moment he pinches a taut nipple and tightens his hold on my wrists above our heads. I tilt my face to his again, murmuring, “Please, Jace.”

  “Say that again.” He moves his hand from my breast for a split second, just to flick his tongue over the tips of his thumb. He squeezes my nipple again, rolling it between his wet fingers suntil the walls of my sex tighten.

  I scream. For the first time in my life, I scream in pleasure. "Oh god, touch me. Please!”

  Whispering something incoherent into my hair, he skims his hand from my breast and across my flat stomach. I bow against him, pushing against the fingers that dip beneath the hem of my skirt. He shoves my panties aside like they’re the biggest burden he’s ever encountered.

  As he circles his knuckles over my sex, he sucks in a breath. "You're so wet, and it's all for me, isn't it?"

  “Yes…” My nails dig into my flesh as I ball my trapped hands into tight fists to ease the torture he’s inflicting on my body. My ass moves against him in a slow circular motion that I pray drives him crazy.

  If he’s going to make me feel this way, it’s only fair I reciprocate.

  “And you’re getting wetter.” I look over my shoulder once more to see a devilish grin flash across his bronze features. Thumbing my clit, he sweeps his other fingers over my slick folds in long backward and forward motions that leave me clenching my teeth and gasping for air. “Christ, your pussy is perfect.”

  "I want you," I whisper, my voice hoarse and strained. I want him, and I don’t care how he does it. From the front, from behind, against the metal post of a bed meant for chains and cuffs—none of it matters so long as he finishes this.

  I’ll worry about wanting more later.

  His hand stops, and a soft plea leaves my parted lips when his fingers withdraw from my body. My brow knits together when his other hand releases mine. He grips my waist and spins me around, so I stand facing him.

  My breathing is labored as the thick air of desire hangs between us, our lips less than a centimeter apart. I expect him to kiss me. In fact, I anticipate the slow burn that comes along with Jace Exley claiming my mouth. Then he grins like the devil and pushes my skirt over my hips, exposing the wispy piece of lace that barely covers my center.

  “I’ve always wondered what kind of panties Lucy Williams wore,” he teases. “And now I know. You’re full of surprises, love.”

  He kneels down in front of me and tugs at the elastic band with his teeth.

  Like my buttons of my blouse, my panties fall to the floor a second later, ruined.

  "Oh god…" My head falls back against the metal beam behind me, my hands gripping either side of his broad shoulders when his
lips stroke my clit.

  “No, Lucy, it’s Jace. That’s the only name I want you calling tonight.”

  The harsh, sweeping motion of his tongue drives me wild. My head tosses from side to side, and I arch into him as his tongue pushes its way deep inside my sex. “Jace,” I confirm. “Yes, Jace.”

  "Fuck, I’m already addicted to you," he murmurs against my flesh, the vibrations dragging a harsh moan deep from within me.

  “That’s a good thing, right?” I say through gritted teeth because the pressure building inside me is almost too much to bear. I’m not sure how long I’ll last with him licking and tasting and touching, but it won’t be long.

  “It’s dangerous.” He rubs his straight nose along my clit and inhales deeply. The sound of approval he releases sends butterflies dancing through my stomach. “Dangerous but so fucking good.”

  Without warning, he digs his fingers into my thighs and shoves his tongue inside my sex. I cry out again. He’s perfect. So stunningly perfect, and I’m sure I’ll explode from his mouth and the fingers massaging the insides of my legs. Without losing his tempo, he guides one of my legs up and over to rest on his shoulder and does the same with the other. His tongue goes deeper—so impossibly, beautifully deeper—and I move my hips, urging him to continue.

  Refusing to let him stop.

  My body is floating by the time he shifts and straightens my weak legs so he can stand upright. As soon as our gazes connect, we’re all over each other, tugging at clothes and on hair and skin. Falling onto the white satin sheets, he pulls me over him so that I’m straddling him.

  My body shudders around his, and I have to clench my thighs around his waist to stop the tremors moving through me because for the first time since coming into this room, I’m afraid.

  What if I’m not enough?

  What if this man, with all his experience and his golden condom packets, needs and wants something I can’t give him?