by M. Leighton
Finally, when my nipples are heavy with an ache that can’t be soothed, Hemi moves on. His eyes slide down my ribs, caress my stomach and tease my thighs. He narrows them on the place shielded by the way my leg is bent, but I feel his touch there, too, nonetheless.
Warmth floods me. I begin to flush and become short of breath despite my determination not to. I close my eyes, close them against what he’s doing to me. What he’s doing to me from all the way across the room. In front of a crowd of onlookers. I try to regain the calm I felt earlier, but it eludes me. I return to the song that was stuck in my head, but now it only worsens the effects of Hemi’s perusal.
Against my better judgment, because I can’t seem to help myself, I open my eyes again. This time, he’s gone. The doorway is empty.
I wonder for a few seconds if I simply imagined him there, but movement to my left catches my eye. For one instant, I turn my head. Hemi is skirting the room as, I assume, he heads over to speak to my instructor. Surely that’s how he got in tonight. This isn’t exactly a public event.
Quickly, before anyone can notice and before Hemi can catch me watching him, I return to my position. But whatever happens from here on, my peace is gone. My calm is over.
Hemi’s seen me naked.
And I loved every second of it.
CHAPTER TWENTY- Hemi
Damn it! Dammit, dammit, dammit!
I’m just as furious now, three hours later, as I was when I walked into that room and saw Sloane, lying naked, stretched out on a table. I should never have gone. I should’ve stayed the hell away from her. I got the information I needed. There was no reason to keep up this ruse, much less put things back on a personal level. But that’s exactly what I did.
All I could think about Thursday night after she left was what she’d be doing tonight. And all day today, all I could think about was her taking off her clothes and striking some pose for a bunch of salivating college assholes to sketch. But I didn’t have to go see for myself. Why the hell did I do that?
And now…now I can’t get the image of her out of my mind. If I’d thought the lure of her sweet, sexy innocence was tempting before…
I slam shut the drawer in my table and glance up at the clock again. She should’ve been here by now.
“What the hell’s your problem?” Sasha asks from where she’s sitting on the other side of the room, inking some guy’s meaty arm.
“Mind your own business,” I snap back, not caring the least bit that she looks wounded. I’m not answering anybody’s questions. There’s no way I’m admitting that I’m waiting for Sloane, that I told her professor to have her stop by the shop tonight because I needed to discuss this preceptorship with her. No, I’d never admit to that. Or to the crazed way I feel right now because she hasn’t shown up.
No, I’d never admit that to anyone. Not even to myself.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE- Sloane
At first, I refused to do as Hemi had requested. I told myself that I was not coming to the shop tonight. Period. I’m not required to be at his beck and call. Besides that, I was humiliated just thinking of facing him again after what happened. But then I realized it would look much worse if I didn’t come. So here I am, waiting for everyone else to clear out of the shop so that there are no witnesses to whatever embarrassing conversation I’m about to have.
Sasha is the last one out. Of course. I see the front door open and she emerges. Alone. Hemi is nowhere in sight. That gives me comfort and satisfaction for some reason. He didn’t walk her to the door. That must mean he wasn’t hanging on her every word and look. At least that’s what I tell myself it means.
I watch her get into her bright red little convertible and pull away from the curb. I resist the urge to throw up in my mouth. Ack! I don’t even like that woman’s car!
I watch until her tail lights disappear over the crest of the hill and only then do I get out of my own car. I stand and straighten my skirt, taking a deep breath as I cross the street. It’s as I’m nearing the curb that I see Hemi come to the door. I guess he’s locking up for the night.
I stop when he looks up, my eyes meeting his through the smoked glass door. His hand pauses in midair, hovering over the lock. He doesn’t move for a few seconds. It makes me wonder if he’s debating whether to talk to me or just ignore me. When he moves his hand away from the lock, I know what he’s decided. Leaning forward, he pushes open the door and waits for me to enter. So I do. Neither of us says a word as he closes and locks it behind me.
Not knowing what kind of confrontation lies ahead, I stand, chin up and chest out, and wait for him to say whatever it is he needs to say. But he doesn’t speak. Instead, he walks around the counter and through the doorway that leads into the back room.
I wait a few seconds before I follow, finding him standing at the chair he uses to tattoo. It’s extended and flattened into a table, no doubt for him to clean it.
Hemi is leaning forward, his fingers curled into tight fists and planted on the padded, vinyl surface. Although his head is down, I don’t need to see his face to know that he’s mad about something. I can see it in every rigid line of his body.
I approach slowly, the heels of my sandals making a delicate tap on the tile floor. The air is cool on my bare arms and legs, and I shiver as I stop a few feet away. “What did you want to talk to me about, Hemi?”
He doesn’t move or speak. I can see the veins standing out along his forearms, and his triceps are bunched. I’d had reservations about coming at all. Now, I’m thinking I should’ve listened to my gut.
“If you’re not going to speak to me then I’ll just go.”
I start to move backward when he looks up at me, pinning me with his angry stare. “Don’t you dare,” he growls. He pushes himself upright and takes two long strides that bring him to me. Right to me, his chest within an inch of mine. “You’re gonna tell me what the hell you were thinking with that stunt?”
“What stunt?” I ask, taken aback.
“Taking your clothes off and lying naked, on a table, in front of a bunch of slobbering idiots.”
“That wasn’t a stunt. I did that for school. I got—”
“The hell you did! You did that to get back at me.” His teeth are clenched so tight I can almost hear them grinding.
“Get back at you? For what? That’s ridiculous.”
“You wanted to show me what I can’t have, what I’m missing out on? Well, you showed me all right.”
“Hemi, that makes no sense. What are you talking about?”
“I’ve done everything within my power to stay away from you. To keep it professional. To keep my hands off you. And then you go and do this.”
I see red. “You are an egotistical asshole! This had nothing to do with you. It had everything to do with me. I didn’t get naked and show my body to everyone in that room to show you anything. I did it to prove to myself that I could. That I would.”
“And did you like it? Knowing that all those eyes were on you? That everyone in that room, male and female, would slit a man’s throat for one little taste of you?”
“That’s insane! No one in that room was looking at me that way.”
“Oh, that’s where you’re wrong,” he spits furiously. “You have no idea what you looked like up there. With your hair put up and a few curls dangling down on your shoulder.” Reaching out, Hemi fingers the strands that still rest there. “Your lips so red and kissable.” His eyes rise to my mouth. I have the sudden urge to moisten my lips. “And your breasts, so round and firm. Oh, God!” he groans, “I’ve never wanted to touch somebody so bad in all my life. Not one person. Ever. My tongue tingled just thinking about sucking one of those pink little nipples into my mouth. And when you looked up at me, I could see it in your eyes. You were wishing the same thing. You were wishing I was touching you.” His voice is low and thick, hypnotic. It oozes over my skin like molasses. “Tell me you were wishing I was touching you.”
He’s weaving a web of desire around me
, his words like strands of the strongest silk, holding me captive. I’m trapped by them, ensnared by him until he either lets me go or makes me his.
Before I can think better of it, I give him honesty. “I was. I could barely breathe when you were looking at me,” I admit breathlessly.
“I know I’ll hate myself for this tomorrow, but I have to have a taste of you, Sloane. I can’t deny myself for one more minute. Let me show you what I was thinking when I saw you lying up there. Let me show you what it feels like when a man stops fighting.” His words drift away as his face draws closer to mine. I feel his breath, warm and moist, on my lips. “Let me show you what it feels like when your wish comes true.”
And then his lips touch mine. From the first touch, I get the feeling he wants to devour me. They’re firm and insistent. His tongue is demanding when it licks across my mouth, determined to slip inside. I welcome it. I welcome him.
It tangles wetly with mine, and I wonder at the flavor of him. It’s even better than I thought it would be.
He pulls my bottom lip into his mouth and sucks gently on it as his fingers find the straps of my sundress and slide underneath. He trails his hands down my arms, dragging the straps with them, peeling the dress from my body. I feel the cool air hit my stomach when the material falls to the ground.
His lips still on mine, Hemi skims his hands down my back. When he reaches my hips, I feel him moan into my mouth. He pulls his head back.
“What’s wrong?” I pant, looking up into his handsome face.
“You’re not wearing anything else.”
I shrug. “What was the point?”
As though my simple clothing somehow further fuels his passion, Hemi growls when he crushes my lips beneath his, lifting me off my feet and turning to set me on the end of the tattoo table.
Never taking his mouth from mine, I hear the whir of the small motor as Hemi raises the surface. When it stops, he is able to slip his hips easily between my legs. The perfect height, the perfect position.
He speaks against my lips, his hands roaming over the skin of my arms and waist. “Every second that I spent inking this beautiful skin, I wanted to put my lips on it.”
Hemi kisses a path across my jaw and down my neck, pressing me backward as he reaches my shoulder. I brace myself on my palms, flattened on the table behind me.
“With every butterfly I created, I’d get closer and closer to these,” he says, gently cupping my breasts, “and I’d think to myself that I couldn’t do it one more time. Not one more, or I’d explode.” Hemi brushes his palms over my nipples. They tingle painfully, my breasts heavy with need. “I don’t know how many times I’ve dreamed of putting them in my mouth,” he says, his lips snaking their way toward the peaks. “Of feeling you shiver when I do.”
Hemi’s hot mouth closes over my nipple and I gasp, the sensation overwhelming it feels so good. As if he made it so, to happen exactly as he’d imagined, a shiver of pure pleasure ripples through me. All I feel is heat—heat from his mouth, heat from his hands, heat from his body where he’s standing between my legs. Even the cool vinyl beneath me feels warm.
“Mmmm,” he growls, the sound vibrating into my nipple, “just like that.”
As he licks and sucks at one, Hemi toys with the other, his fingers rolling and pinching it, squeezing and tweaking it.
“But nothing prepared me for tonight,” he whispers as he brings his hands around to grip mine, loosening them from the vinyl and easing me farther back, onto my elbows. “I didn’t think I could want you anymore until I saw you lying there tonight. I knew then that no matter how hard I fought, I wouldn’t be able to rest until I could feel you coming on my fingers. Until I could take them from inside you and lick the juice from them.”
His hands skim down my sides and slide under my butt, pulling my hips closer to the edge of the bed. Hemi wedges himself into the V. His body and his clothes graze me there, making me ache for more pressure, for something to fill the emptiness, for Hemi to quiet the throb.
Then his lips are on mine again, his hands finding their way to the place I crave them most. I feel one fingertip brush the outside before Hemi drags it along the crease of me. I gasp again, unaccustomed to the myriad sensations he’s inciting.
“You like that?” he whispers against my lips. “You want more?”
I can’t speak. All I can do is give him one short, breathless moan.
“That’s right, baby. I wanna hear it.”
His tongue licks at my lips as he massages my throbbing flesh with his finger.
“Holy shit, you’re so wet,” he groans. “I wanna be inside you so bad.”
He slides his tongue into my mouth just as his finger enters me. Slowly, carefully, he licks along my tongue, tasting me deeply as his finger explores my body. I feel the pressure of it as Hemi bends his finger and drags it out, slowly. A tightness squeezes my stomach and tension builds between my legs. I want to beg, to plead, but the words won’t come. Only sounds.
“I’m gonna make you come for me, Sloane. And I wanna hear you when I do.”
He introduces another finger, moving them both into me as he uses the thumb of his other hand to touch the sensitive muscle at the top of my folds. I feel like I’m on the verge of flying apart when he takes my clitoris between his fingertips and tugs.
“That’s right, baby,” he says when my hips start to move against his hands. “Look down, Sloane. Watch what I’m doing to you.”
Hemi leans his chest away from mine enough that I can see, that I can do as he asks. Two fingers of one hand are disappearing inside me, his knuckles pressing into my spread folds. His other hand is cupping my hip, his thumb working in tight little circles over my clitoris.
“The next time you watch, you’ll be seeing my cock pounding into you and coming out slick and wet. And you’ll see me pull out and come. Right here,” he says, flicking the nub of swollen flesh as he drives another finger into me.
His voice gets softer and softer, sounds farther and farther away as my world sharpens to a pinpoint focus. Everything is dim compared to what Hemi is doing to me with his hands.
And then my breathing stops, my breath caught in a tight pocket inside my chest. I squeeze my eyes shut as a loud moan is torn from me. Light explodes behind my lids. Fire rains through me. Liquid, hot and glowing, pours into my core and out onto his hands.
“That’s it, Sloane. Oh, God, that’s it. Come for me.”
His fingers are magic, his words a heady elixir. After a few seconds of nothing but intense sensation, a numbness sneaks into my limbs, making them heavy. My arms won’t support me anymore and I fall back onto the padded surface of the table. My breath is back, expelled from my body in a series of shallow pants.
When I can finally open my eyes, I glance down and see Hemi watching me, a ravenous look on his face. Slowly, as I watch, he raises his hand to his mouth and slides his tongue along one long finger. “Holy fuc—” The expression is cut off when he grits his teeth and closes his eyes. He leans forward, bracing his hands on either side of my hips and letting his head hang down again. I hear him growl and feel him pound his palms into the padding of the table. When he speaks, I have to strain to hear him. “I’m stopping tonight, Sloane. I want this choice to be yours.”
“Choice?” I say, confused.
Hemi looks up at me. He looks almost like he’s in pain. “Yes, this is a decision you need to make when there’s no pressure, no one to sway you. When I’m not rock hard with the need to get inside you.”
The heaviness between my thighs recedes and I come back to life with a tingle at his words.
“You’re not pressuring me.”
“I’ve known a lot of different kinds of women. But none like you. Not one. I’m trying to do the right thing here.”
I doubt he means for them to, but his words make me feel like…less. I turn my head to the side, away from his gaze. “It’s not like something I did on purpose,” I explain, trying not to sound defensive about my v
irginity.
“It’s not a bad thing. That’s not what I’m saying. It’s not a bad thing at all. I’m not exactly sure how you’ve managed it, but I’m actually kinda glad you’re a virgin.”
“Well, I didn’t really have much opportunity. With a father and brothers like mine, guys didn’t exactly feel comfortable pressing their luck. I guess they were all just a little too afraid of the Locke men.”
“Their loss is my gain then,” he says, pulling me into a sitting position, speaking softly in my ear as he rubs his cheek against mine. “Just know this, Sloane, I can’t walk away from you again. You need to be sure this is what you want. And that I’m the person you want it with.”
I lean back, meeting Hemi’s eyes, falling into the stormy blue depths. “I want this,” I admit simply.
“I may not be able to give you breakfasts and promises, but I can give you pleasure like you’ve never even dreamed of. That will have to be enough.”
“I don’t want promises. Most of the time, promises are just pretty lies. They’re words designed to make others feel better. But in the end, they’re still just lies. Disappointing lies,” I tell him in a moment of bald honesty. “So don’t worry about making me promises. I’d rather have your truth.”
For a moment, before he hides it from my view, I see a flash of regret. I’m not sure what it means, and I’m going to do my best not to focus on it. On anything that could take away from this special time. Whatever secrets Hemi has are his to keep and his to share. Just like mine are. We all have our reasons for hiding things. I, of all people, can’t deny someone else theirs.
“Then that’s what I’ll give you. The truth. Starting right now,” he says, taking my face in his hands. “I want you, Sloane. I want to do things to you, do things with you. I want to show you what it feels like to have someone worship your body. I want you to experience the pleasure a man should bring you, so you never settle for less. Just know that, while we’re together, you’re mine. All mine. No one else’s. Do you understand?” I nod. “Don’t get me wrong. I loved seeing this beautiful body in that pose, like the picture of innocence and sin, all wrapped up in smooth, creamy skin. But,” Hemi says, a frown wrinkling his brow, “I didn’t like other people getting to see you that way.”