“Then why do you work here?” he asks.
I roll my eyes. “Let’s not do this.”
“Do what?” He looks so damn innocent, his eyes a touch too wide. He knows exactly what I’m talking about.
“The rescue game.”
“The rescue game,” he repeats.
“You know, where you ask about my problem as if you care.”
“I do actually care, though.” His lips curve. “A little.”
That makes me snort. “And then you offer to help me out. You can spot me a hundred for my light bill. Or hey, here’s an even better idea: I can go live with you rent-free. All I have to do is fuck you every night.”
“Ouch.”
“And then leave when you get tired of me.”
He is silent a moment. “Wow, you really think I’m a bastard.”
Something in my chest twists. I could have just let him say his piece. It probably would have been the same shit that every stripper has heard before, but I didn’t give him much of a chance, did I? “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“No, I mean, you’re right.”
“Really?” It doesn’t surprise me that I’m right. It surprises me that he’ll admit it.
“I am a bastard,” he says. “Bastard enough to charge you your share of rent, that’s for sure. And we’re trading off on doing the dishes.”
A smile tugs at my lips. “Too soon?”
“A little. I could spot you a twenty. We’ll work up from there.”
I roll my eyes. “Okay, so maybe I jumped to conclusions.”
He stops, dead serious. “No, you’re right to call me on my bullshit. Even if that wasn’t exactly what I want from you.”
“So what is it that you want from me?”
He is quiet. “To walk you home. Can I? Tomorrow.”
It’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever been asked. Like holding my hand, like a kiss on the cheek. I’m lonely enough that it seems impossible, and I stare disbelieving at the oasis. Maybe a part of me liked it dry. “And today?”
“Today…” He slides a hand down my hip, hitching me up between the wall and his body. “Today we can play a game.”
“Not the rescue game,” I whisper.
He runs his tongue down my neck while his hand reaches under me, lifting me higher, until my feet are off the ground. “Don’t count on me to rescue you, Honey. I’d only disappoint.”
But he won’t disappoint me in this. That’s the unspoken promise as his fingers find my pussy and rub through my yoga pants—hard and fast. My moan is caught in his mouth, his lips flush against mine, his tongue seeking and rough.
“What’s the game then?” I ask, shuddering as he nips my shoulder.
“The game is whoever comes first…loses.”
My laugh turns into a gasp as the rigid length of him presses flush against my clit, our clothes made of air and whimsy—nothing at all. We rock this way, in time to that ancient rhythm, feeling the beat of our hearts and our sex. There’s a beat coming from the other side of the wall, the music of someone onstage, the sound of someone’s defilement, and we use it, make it our own, writhing against each other until we reach a fever pitch.
Then abruptly, I’m back on the ground.
I would fall except for his hands steadying me, turning me around.
I’m facing the wall now, almost hugging it, face and breasts against brick. And my ass exposed as he yanks down my pants, pushing them to my knees. Coarse hands position my hips, pushing me out further so he can see… so he can penetrate.
There’s a rip. And a tear. And a blunt nudge at my sex.
I’ve fucked his fingers and his boot. But this is the first time he’s put his cock in me. It’s fitting that I’m not looking at him. Both cold and hot as I press against the cool, gritty surface and get invaded from behind.
He’s so thick, and I whimper. “Almost there,” he mutters.
But if I thought he’d take mercy, go slower, I’d be wrong. He presses all the way deep, tilting my pelvis to take him all the way inside. My mouth opens on a silent gasp. I’m too full like this. Too full of his cock. Too full of memories.
This is how Byron fucked me, from behind.
But it’s completely different too. Completely hot. Completely amazing as he fills me, again and again. As his hand reaches around to play with my clit. Casually, as if we have all the time in the world. There’s no rush, even with us out in the open.
He can fuck me forever—and he does, sliding into me until I’m slick and swollen, until my clit is plump and needy against his fingers, begging for relief.
My moan has all my pent up need. To be held and fucked. To be wanted.