Buy Me Sir(71)

The scent of him makes me heady, and so do the bubbles on my tongue.

I want to kiss him, but I don’t know how.

I want to slip my hands inside his jacket and hold him close.

I want to feel the hardness of him against my belly.

But I stand still. Waiting. Wanting.

“I’m assured you’ve accepted a six-month exclusivity term,” he says. His voice is super professional. Guarded.

“Yes.”

“I trust you read the small print?”

I attempt to recall the bits I noted, but my mind is fuzzy. Excitement and nerves aren’t the greatest recipe for flawless recall. I tell him so with a smile, and hope that excuses my ignorance.

“Excitement?” He seems taken aback, even though his gaze is steady and his jaw is firm. It’s just something in his eyes, something I can’t put my finger on.

My cheeks are burning, and I don’t know what to say. I don’t have a smart quip to hand, or some sexy one-liner that makes me sound like a sex goddess. I don’t have anything to offer him but the honest truth, which is such a joke in itself given the route I’ve taken to get into his bed in the first place.

My eyes are on his, my throat dry as I cough up my answer.

I hope he can’t see my pink cheeks under my foundation. “I, um… I wanted to see you again.”

No. That’s not the truth. Not anywhere near.

I love you. I’ve always loved you. I can’t stop thinking about you.

I’m Melissa Martin, the girl who bought you a cupcake. The girl who ironed the shirt you’re wearing. The girl you bummed a cigarette to outside my school gates.

He reads people for a living, and I know it. I can feel how he’s reading me right now.

His eyes are dark and fierce, the steel of his jaw just as intimidating as it was in the meeting room weeks ago.

My confidence deflates, my breath unsteady as I dip my head. I’m back to staring at his feet, the mirror shine of his brogues so stark against the cream carpet.

I feel the heat of him. I feel his breath on my hair.

And then his fingers are under my chin, tipping my face to his.

“Flattery is unnecessary.”

My eyes widen. “But… it’s not…”

His stare could cut me in half and leave me bleeding on the floor.

I want him to kiss me. I want him to wrap his fingers around my throat and take away my ability to speak any more stupid words.

But he doesn’t.

He reaches inside his jacket and pulls out an envelope.

“I like to get the practicalities out of the way first,” he says, and I feel weirdly sad as I take the money from him. Feel strangely deflated as I thank him and drop the bundle in my handbag. He finishes up his water as I clasp it shut. “I hope you weren’t too inconvenienced in the aftermath,” he says.

“Tender,” I admit. “But it was no problem.”

“Good to hear.” He clears his throat. “In other practicalities, you’ll be staying until morning. We’ll meet at this time every weekend.”

“Okay.”

“If you’ve revised your hard limits after our last encounter, now is the time to air them.”

I shake my head. “No revisions.”

He doesn’t understand me, and I know it. I can see his mind whirring behind those dark eyes, digging and reasoning and trying to fit my pieces together. I feel it. I feel him.

But he won’t. He can’t.

He’s trying to solve a puzzle without all the pieces. Without any of them.

“You’re quite extraordinary,” he tells me, and I feel that, too.

“So are you, Mr Brown.” I can hardly breathe. I can hardly think. I can hardly do anything but yield to the way my body feels when he’s near.

I watch his throat as he swallows. I watch his mouth as he takes the breath I’m craving.

My body moves as his does, my tummy fluttering as we meet in the space between us, and my hands really do slip inside his jacket, my mouth already open for his as he lowers his face to mine.

I’d burn all the cash in my handbag for one single moment like this.

I’d give him everything I owned just for one breath of his breath.

And I think he knows, somewhere deep inside. I think he knows this isn’t Amy Randall, some random girl being paid for sex with a stranger.

I think he knows he knows me, because he groans when his fingers twist in my hair, and I feel his heartbeat against my shoulder. It’s fast, it’s really fast.

Nearly as fast as mine.

He tugs my dress up and over my head, and unclips my bra and drops it loose. His fingers hook inside my knickers and shimmy them down my hips, until there’s only me, naked in discount shoes. He parts my thigh with his, and the fabric of his trousers is so soft against my pussy. He hitches my ass and holds me tight, and I rock against him, loving the swell of his crotch against my belly.