He shakes his head, the expression in his eyes almost sad. “This is what you asked for,” he repeats. “Maybe next time you’ll ask for what you need.”
I shudder, right on the edge. “I need, I need—”
“I know,” he murmurs.
As I look into his eyes, I have the strangest feeling that he does know. Maybe he already knows what I’m afraid of. Maybe he knows what I need. It pushes me over, and then I’m coming, rocking my clit against leather, humping his leg while he murmurs how good I am, how sweet.
And when I am done, my body trembling, heart thudding, he pays me. I stare at the money as if I’ve never seen it before—as if I’ve never gotten paid before. As if it’s never hurt this bad before.
His expression is hungry as he stares down at me. But I must not be enough, because his erection is still thick in his jeans when he stands.
He looks down at me, and I feel again those brambles grow wild and fast, foliage too dense to see past, branches too thick to cut down. And again, that strange sense that he wants to hate me. He doesn’t want to get close. I remember this feeling too well. And when Kip leaves, I shiver on the floor, nauseous and afraid, remembering.
* * *
Six months ago
My face is stiff from smiling. My calves ache from the four-inch heels. Why is it the more a shoe costs, the thinner its sole? I greet another couple with as much warmth as I can pretend, considering the man has a lipstick smear on his face.
Not the same shade as his wife’s lipstick.
These parties are see and be seen. Fuck and be fucked. The woman scans the room as we discuss the latest charity fundraiser. She’s looking for her next conquest.
“Honor, darling.” The voice is like a cube of ice all the way down my spine.
I turn to greet the handsome man. Byron Adams, my fiancé. And the rising star in the Las Vegas Police Department. He’s aiming for police commissioner. “Byron, I was wondering where you’d gotten to.”
There is no lipstick on his face, which isn’t proof of anything. No, the main reason I believe he is faithful is because of the look in his eye. The one that scares me. “I was talking business,” he says with an almost bashful smile. It was strange to see that expression on him. It made him seem younger. It made me ache. “And missing you.”
Both the man and woman smile at us like we’re in love. I have to remember that. We are in love.
I lay my hand on his arm and force a smile. “Then take me with you.”
And he does. He leads me out of the room and up the stairs to the office. I’ve been in this office a thousand times, but not like this. Not with my fiancé’s rough hands bending me over the desk. He drags up the hem of my glittery dress, exposing my ass. The thong snaps.
“I couldn’t find you,” he says, voice tight.
There’s no right answer. If he wants me, he gets me. “I’m sorry,” I murmur, pleading.
The sound of a zipper pierces the room. Then he is inside me, skin to skin. His cock thrusts deep into my cunt. The papers are probably important, the tally of millions of dollars, but I crush them in my fists.
His fingers dig into my hips. “I don’t like that. Stay where I can see you.”
“I will,” I gasp out, but it’s hard. Hard because I can barely breathe, the way he’s thrusting faster now. Harder. The way my face is shoved into the desk, leaving streaks of eye makeup on the crinkled sheets of paper, damp with tears.
We are in love.
He pulls out. I tense up, knowing what’s coming next. If I’d had any doubts—any hopes—they are gone when he spits onto my ass. Careless fingers smooth the saliva into my puckered hole. Then his cock is pressing against me.
I practice like he tells me to. The plugs are as big as I can bear, but it’s still too much. Too much when his cock is inside me, dragging against the tender flesh, fucking me.
“Wait,” I whimper. “Wait.”
I don’t mean wait. I mean no no no. I mean stop and never start again. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t stop, and that’s for the best. If he did, he’d ask what I meant. He’d ask why I said it. And I don’t have answers for him. I only have my own muffled groans as he slams back into me.
I only have pain as he presses deep.
Chapter Five
The rest of the night I dance in a kind of trance, only vaguely aware of the flashing lights or the applause. The hands that reach for me, stroking and grabbing, barely register tonight. The hurt and shame I feel after being made to fuck his boot are too strong. I can see why Candy likes to shoot up before she goes onstage. I wish she was here so I could ask her for a hit.