I’m not sure what to do. His cock is hard against me, but if I try to stroke it, I’ll move his hand out of position, and I really don’t want to do that. So I go with the flow. If he wants me to do something different, I’m sure he’ll tell me.
His thumb thrusts hard and fast inside me, his knuckles sliding back and forth along the swollen nub of my clit. If I weren’t so slick—damn near dripping—the sensation would be intolerable. As it is, it’s building so fast inside me I’m not sure I can stand it much longer.
“Let go,” he says, and I do. The climax is so intense I can’t summon thoughts alongside it. I’m just an empty vessel with hot ecstasy pouring through me, my body shaking while Nick plays me like a musical instrument.
I’m starting to ease down from the peak when he shifts me. His dick moves inside me—it takes no effort on his part except to position me just right. I’m so slick and ready, my body just lets him in.
He slides deep, and I clench down on him, giving him as much firm friction as I can muster. I’m careful how I position myself, grabbing one shoulder to keep my balance but making sure it’s not on the side where he’s been bruised and battered. I’m not sure he’d even care, but I don’t want to hurt him, no matter how macho he’s trying to be.
I expect him to start thrusting right away, but he doesn’t. He holds me there on his lap, eyes matched to mine, like he’s just feeling our connection. I squeeze down so I can feel the full length of him inside me. He’s so hard, and in so deep.
“Your turn.” He says it so quietly I’m not sure I hear him at first.
“My turn for what?”
He bumps his hips up under me just a little. “Take over. Go for it.”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” I tell him again. He just laughs a little and slides a hand into my hair.
“You won’t,” he says. “I trust you.”
Suddenly I’m blinking, my eyes hot, and I don’t know why I’m almost crying. Simple words, and not even the words everyone says they want to hear. But they mean more to me than I can even comprehend right now.
He trusts me.
I roll my hips, tightening on him as I draw back, releasing as I move in closer. He tips his head back on the couch, eyes closed, and sets his hands against my waist.
He’s not even watching as I move on him, not trying to shift or control me, not worrying that I might accidentally touch him the wrong way or grab on to a wounded piece of him. There’s a low hum coming from the back of his throat, and there’s a sight smile on his face.
It makes me feel…powerful. He’s barely moving, letting me control the speed and depth of penetration. Once or twice he shifts his hips, but he never takes away the control he’s handed over to me.
I move faster, rocking on him until the insides of my thighs start to burn with the strain. His hands tighten on me, and I can tell he’s riding closer and closer to climax.
“Sarah,” he says suddenly, and nothing else, and then he jerks his hips up hard. I respond by grabbing the back of the couch to force myself down on him, holding still as he thrusts hard into me. With my other hand, I reach down between us and touch myself.
I explode on him. The moment I do, I feel him let go, too, and we fall over the edge together, until finally I fold forward onto him and kiss his mouth.
He gently strokes his hand into my hair. “You didn’t hurt me. I knew you wouldn’t.”
Chapter Eight
Nick
Unlike Phil Spada, I don’t own a mansion filled with conference rooms. My crew meets regularly at Marlo’s, a bar a few blocks down from my place, where I can count on the staff to keep quiet. They pay me once a month to keep an eye on the place; in return for a substantial discount from my regular protection rate, I get to set up meetings in the back and be assured they don’t spread my business around.
We’re getting together today, at the regular meeting time, to discuss in a little more detail what exactly we need to do to keep income flowing now that the MMA ring is temporarily shut down. That’s been a big source of cash for us over the last few years, but we can’t depend on it now until things get settled. I’m thinking about shaking down a few more local businesses for protection money, but I’m also interested to hear ideas from some of the guys. Some of them can be pretty innovative, especially when it comes to strategies the law won’t necessarily jump on. A couple of them are really good with computers, and I hope they’ll float some thoughts about expanding their efforts on that front.
I’m not having much luck keeping the conversation on track, though. All anybody wants to talk about is Sal. Well, specifically the way Sal looks at the moment, after I beat the shit out of him yesterday. Apparently he’s worse off than I am. I’m not surprised. He never was the greatest with his fists. He’s more of an automatic-weapon type of guy.