Hansel 3(5)

“You can’t tell?” He sneers at me, and reaches for the gear shift. I’m suddenly upset—finally feeling the surprise and dismay he’s been going for—so I almost turn and go. But there’s a rock stuck between two of my toes, and suddenly all I can think of is him hitting the gas and me not being fast enough to avoid getting caught in his damn door.

The car’s wheels roll a little as he shifts to “reverse,” and I talon-latch onto his shoulder. His eyes connect with mine, and they’re so wide, so warm, so…affected by my hand on him, I feel a rush of power. Headiness so fierce the world around me spins.

He still wants me.

Hansel wants me…

In the punch of one heartbeat, I realize it’s obsession—this warm lump of emotion I’ve been fostering and feeding—and the realization empowers me to hang on. Literally.

I wind my arms around his neck and toss my leg over his hips, settling on his lap as his eyes pop, and his shoulders press against the leather seat. I lean so close that I can smell the sweetness of his breath.

“Shit,” he whispers.

I slide one palm down his chest and let the other one wander down his side. I clutch his thigh, and as I feel the thick muscle, I feel something hard between my legs.

My gaze dips down, and glee sweeps through me as my hand slides over his hip and down…until my trembling fingers are cradling his erection. He hardens still more as I watch, until every line of him is straining through the denim of his pants.

I press my fingers against him and rock my palm against his length. I lean in close as I start stroking, tickling my lips over his throat.

“So I don’t turn you on?” I whisper.

His eyes squeeze shut. His jaw tightens. I watch him clench his fist.

“You’re not looking for anything I’ve got…right?”

I press the base of my palm against the underside of his plump head. His face tenses as I wrap my fingers around it.

“I see,” I whisper, stroking him. “You’re just not attracted to me, are you?”

Looking down again, I can see his jeans are loose enough that I can grasp him through them. I curl my fingers all the way around him and give a little tug. He groans.

“Leah…” His eyelids slowly lift, revealing lust-hazed eyes. “Get out.”

“I don’t think so, Edgar.” I reach behind me to put the car in “park” again, and all the while I’m stroking him, more pleased with myself than I know I should be, considering I pretty much accosted him.

He’s so hard for my hand, and as I play with him, his eyes are looking warmer and warmer, as if the inside of him is melting.

“I like to touch you, and I know you like it, too,” I murmur, pulling his erection up and out and wrapping my hand around his head. “You tried to lie to me. That hurts.”

I say it lightly, whispered, even though it’s true. I press his dick between my legs and rock against the head of him, feeling desperate. He moans, pushing himself against me.

He grits his teeth, and while I watch his mouth for words that will alleviate the sharp pain in my chest, his hands close around my waist and lift me off his lap. He sets me in the passenger’s seat and throws the car back into “reverse.” Without a word, he backs out, shifts roughly into “drive,” and shoots across the parking lot.

“Where are you taking me? To the MGM Grand? You couldn’t take it, could you? You can’t take me.”

My cheeks burn so hot, I worry my head will explode as he pulls onto The Strip. Before this, I was feeling sorry for him, but not now.

“You think about me every time you fuck another woman, don’t you?” My words, and the volume of them, shock me, but I’m pulsing everywhere. In between my legs, inside my chest. He’s got me so worked up, I feel like I might cry. He’s taking me back to the casino. He’s just going to drop me off like garbage.

“Is that how you handle things? Someone is a problem for you, send them away. Someone fucks you their way and not yours, well find a new submissive! Someone wants more of you than you can give without exposing your damn self and that’s the end! See ya later! Change your name.”

My shoulders heave as I drag in a big breath.

All around us, lights blink, buildings glimmer, cars purr in long, congested lines. I feel as if we should be moving fast, but we’re almost at a standstill.

The Range Rover must have thick windows, because the silence in the car is palpable, as is the anguish on his face.

“Damnit, Leah.” He slams his fist against the wheel and looks out his window. His profile looks imposing. Dangerous. “You shouldn’t want anything to do with me.”