"Give my boy Raze here a blow job," he says with an evil grin on his face. "A stellar fucking blow job. In fact, get on your fucking hands and knees, crawl your ass over to him, and beg him to let you blow him. You do that, and then I'll believe you when you say you'll do anything to keep this job."
Jesus fucking Christ.
No way.
No fucking way is this going to happen.
Chapter 8
Andrea
"Do it," Lance barks at me, and I jerk in response.
Conflicting emotions run through me. Fear that this isn't just Lance fucking with me … that he has something more nefarious planned.
Relief.
Relief that he's not the one interested in getting a blow job, and relief I didn't have to prove my loyalty by going back upstairs to fuck that guy.
Guilt.
Guilt that Wyatt has no say so in any of this, because what little I've come to know about this man … I know that he, more than anything, doesn't want me to be violated in anyway. Even if I have to give him a blow job, and he's the one receiving pleasure, he will still feel like he's violating me.
Shame.
Shame because the thought of giving Wyatt a blow job causes skitters of pleasure to course through me. Odd … I never much enjoyed it with David but for some reason, my mouth waters thinking about doing that to Wyatt.
That is wrong on so many fucked-up levels that I have to immediately dismiss it from my mind, and instead, I choose to focus on the last emotion coursing through me.
Fury.
Fury that this prick Lance thinks he can bully me around. Fury that Simon kidnaps and sells women as sex slaves. Fury that someone as good and decent as Wyatt even has to immerse himself in this untenable situation.
I slowly drop to my hands and knees and start crawling toward Wyatt. His face is hard, a muscle popping at his jawline. He gazes down at me intently, and I see the subtle grinding motion of his teeth, silently gnashing at each other.
If I were really Nikki O, a down-and-out stripper who needed this job and would do anything to keep it, I would think Wyatt was looking down at me with barely uncontrolled lust. But as FBI agent Andrea Somerville, who knows exactly what stakes are at risk here, and who remembers when Wyatt told me the other night that he wouldn't let anything bad happen to me, I see a man that is furious and regretful all at the same time that I'm crawling toward him.
Lance gives a dark chuckle behind me. "She looks phenomenal from this angle, Raze."
Closer and closer I get to Wyatt and my heart is thundering deep within my chest. My heart aches for him as I take note of the very clear erection pressed against his black jeans, showing his traitorous body.
"You're forgetting something," Lance says thickly.
I pause in my crawling and turn my head to look back over my shoulder. Lance's eyes are pinned onto my bare ass since I'm wearing a thong, but then his eyes slide to mine. "You need to beg him."
I give Lance my most capitulating look coupled with a smile of assent and turn back to Wyatt.
Looking him straight in the eyes, I start crawling toward him again.
"Please … Raze … let me give you a blow job."
His jaw muscle pops again and his fingers curl tightly into the armrest.
I crawl closer.
"Please … let me suck you down."
Teeth grinding, his legs spread apart to give me room to crawl right up to him.
Reaching out, I place one hand on his knee and use it to pull myself up in between his legs. I hope he can see the apology in my eyes when I say, "Please … Raze … let me make you come with my mouth."
"That's it, baby," Lance murmurs behind me, and a shudder of disgust over the lust in his voice floods through me.
My eyes flutter closed, and I swallow hard. When I open them back up, I don't dare to look at Wyatt. Instead, I look down at the straining fly of his jeans. My hands are shaking when I reach out and pop the button, and his hips shift slightly as I lower the zipper.
"Lift your ass," I say quietly, and he does as I ask. I hear his teeth grind together harder, and I internally wince because I know that hurts.
My fingertips slip into the waistband of his underwear, and I gently tug them and his jeans down. His erection is revealed and when the constraining material is removed, it stands up tall, thick, and hard as a rock.
It's fucking beautiful and even though this is an act … a part of the job … the tingling sensation between my legs tells me this is not going to be a hardship.
"A little privacy," Wyatt says thickly, and my eyes jerk up to his. He's not looking at me though. His gaze is focused over my shoulder at Lance, and the hard glint I see reflecting leaves no room open for Lance to argue.