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So his dick was theultra-sensitive kind afterward. Good to know.
Good to know? Jesus, Roan! This was hopefully a means to an end and that’s it.
My task complete, I stood slowly, licking my lips. His eyes were glued to mine, burning with desire and outright confusion. For someone who was always so in control, it was strange to see him looking atmefor the answer. But it was also kind of hot, to think I’d been able to make a man like that come completely undone in spite of himself.
While I wished he’d say something, I also knew better. I could count on one hand the number of things I knew about this man and “not chatty” was at the top of the list. I think I could safely add “closeted” as number two.
At the very least, I proved keeping me alive wasn’t an altogether terrible idea. Hopefully, that little gift would buy me some good will. Then when the time was right, I could get the fuck out of here.
22
Sasha
What in thefuck just happened?!
I had no idea. I mean, Iknew. Jesus. I’d had enough blowjobs in my life to know. But why? Only Roan knew the answer to that and for once he wasn’t fucking talking. Why wasn’t he talking?!
Roan.
Goddamn it!
Somehow, someway, the kid made me see fucking stars. For that brief moment, the only thing that mattered was his mouth — hot and wet and fucking perfect.
I didn’t ask him to. I certainly didn’t tell him to. He just… did.
Then he stood up and walked back into the bathroom and took a shower like none of it happened.
What the fuck.
What the fuck?!
Completely dumbfounded, I tucked my dick back where it belonged and zipped up my jeans. All I knew was I had to leave. I didn’t know what I was capable of in the moment. I didn’t know who I was, but I knewwhatI was.
Disgusting, that’s what.
Immoral.
Reprehensible.
I spun away from the wall and headed for the door as fast as my legs would move. There was more vodka in the car, I knew that. And a fresh pack of cigarettes. Those were safe ways to pass the time, instead of having your hostage suck you off while hiding out from the cops.
After I retrieved my emergency provisions, I returned to the second floor and perched on the top step. There was no way I could go back into that room, not while Roan was awake. I’d spend the rest of the night on the step or in the car if I had to. I didn’t trust him. I didn’t trust myself.
I lit the first cigarette and inhaled deeply, but it did nothing to resolve the sickness inside. Twisting off the bottle cap, I took a long pull of vodka, trying to forget the way he looked at me. Those blue eyes that looked purple in the dim light of the shitty motel room. The way his mouth looked, cheeks hollow, lips wrapped around my—
Heat seared into my forearm. I grimaced, growling through the pain and trying to ignore the smell of my own flesh burning.
When the hissing subsided, I flicked the spent cigarette down the stairs and blew away the residual ash. The black blister on the inside of my forearm was one of many, mostly disguised amongst my tattoos. I needed to remember thepain, not the way his golden hair felt as it slipped through my fingers, tousled and messy at the top and faded down the sides, a less severe version of my haircut.
Pain.
Black, empty pain.
What was it he called me? Mr. Black? Perfect. That’s what I would be. Not Sasha. Not Aleksandr. Just black. The Wolf of Verkhoyansk. Cold, unfeeling, merciless.
I had a fucking job to do.
If I really needed to get off, I could go pick up any number of women at the Birdcage. Or some chick in a bar whose name I didn’t know. It didn’t matter. I had options. Plenty offemaleoptions — thenaturaloption, as God intended. I had achoiceand I chosenotto dwell on the fact all I wanted was to march back in there and force Roan to his knees again.
