Wild Dirty Secret(29)

“I would keep her safe.”

He would keep her, but would he let her go? And if he touched her, even once, she wouldn’t be the same anymore. Always remembering that her first time was with a man not of her choosing, even if he’d been kind enough to make her come. Forever wondering whether she would have to pay with sex one more time. Offering her body, again and again, because she knew at least that much worked.

“No.”

His face darkened. “You’re not in a position to negotiate, Shelly.”

“You won’t touch her.” That much I was sure of. There was a twisted honor among thieves, or in this case, sexual deviants. According to the rules of the street, by saving her and bringing her here, she was mine. Mine to sell, if I chose, and mine to keep. He wouldn’t touch her without my agreement.

“You’re here under my protection,” he reminded me.

But he could kick us out. He had no obligation to me or to her. Street etiquette was to not get involved, and by our very presence here, he was involved.

“Just give me a few days,” I said, my voice raw, naked. “Let her stay here, and I’ll fix this.”

He looked doubtful. “And if you can’t?”

She was mine to use as a backup plan. I swallowed. “Then we’ll see.”

“Then you’ll give her to me, wrapped up in lace,” he said amiably.

“Yes.” I choked on the word.

“I think we should ink the deal. Something to tide me over.”

I would, I swore silently. I would fix this and free her, the way no one had done for me, not even Luke. Yes, I could ink that deal, with blood, with sex. “I saw the way you talked about her. The way you got hard thinking of her. You’re hard right now with it, aren’t you?” Another roll of my hips; his sharp intake of breath. “What is it you like about her? Her age?”

“It’s… No… She’s not too young.”

Stammering was deliciously out of character for Philip. I worked at the buttons of his shirt. “Not too young. And she’ll learn.” Inside, I ran my hands through the light fur there, touched my mouth to his heated skin. “Wouldn’t that be fun, directing her? Guiding her?”

He groaned, almost there.

“Show me what you’d do.” I flicked my tongue at the base of his throat. “Teach me a lesson.”

His restraint fell away; he caved in completely, pulling off the rest of his clothes while I took off mine. I fell to my knees, eyes wide and innocent. “I want to please you. Will you show me how?”

It was so wrong. Not only to play the ingénue, but to do it in the guise of Ella. But Philip had always gotten off on the strange, the deviant, and I had been right about his desire for her. The fact that he thought she was too innocent, out-of-bounds, just made the lust sharper. I would play the part in her place, and in doing so, keep her safe.

He slipped his hand behind my head and guided his cock to my mouth. There he paused, giving me time to feel it on my lips, the patient instructor to a curious pupil.

“That’s right,” he murmured. “Let it inside.”

I opened wider, only a fraction. It seemed too big; suddenly it was too big, and I had never done this before. I felt poignant fear, both of this foreign male member and of the possibility of failure as I donned my role.

He bolstered me with praise while feeding the air of pretense. “It’s going to feel so good, your mouth around me, sucking me. I love your lips, so pink and full. It’s all I can think about when I see them, spreading them wide around my cock.”

I wondered briefly if he was really thinking of my lips or hers, but it didn’t matter. This wasn’t about me and him; it was about our unfulfilled fantasies played out with another, and the wrongness of it was just right.

He slid inside, and I worked the head of his cock in clumsy swipes of my tongue. The more I flustered and bungled it, the more excited he got, hard and urgent, seeping cum into my mouth. His words were sweeter than he had ever used with me, almost painful to hear: yes, you’ve got it, just like that, you’re so brave.

For my part, I played the role like I had been paid to do it. That was how I liked it; I didn’t have to care, and that couldn’t be real fear. It was just a job, just another part to play.

Despite my play at inexperience, or because of it, he was close. So close his pretty words cracked into grunts and groans.

A knock came at the door. “Shelly, are you in there?”

Oh, Ella. Uncertain, stricken, I looked at Philip and saw that it was too late. He was panting, flushed, already there, the sound of her voice triggering his release into my throat. His orgasm was quiet, the raw sounds of his breathing easily muffled by the rattling of the doorknob.