Page 9
“Eight hours on these,” he says. “Every night.”
“Sometimes ten.” My head falls back on the couch. “Oh, that’s… Lord. Right there. Don’t you stop.”
He doesn’t stop. He works my arch, my heel, every one of my toes, his big rough hands careful in a way that doesn’t make sense with the rest of him. Then the other foot. My eyes are closed. I’m melting into this expensive couch, and every time his thumbs press into a sore spot, the ache runs up my leg and turns into something else entirely.
His hands slide up to my ankles. My calves. Squeezing. My breathing changes. He hears it.
When his hands get to the backs of my knees, I open my eyes.
He’s looking at me. On his knees between my legs with his sleeves rolled up and his hands on me, and his face is so serious my stomach flips.
“Sasha.” My voice cracks. “Wait. I don’t… I don’t know if I’m…”
“Yes, you do.”
His hands slide higher. Up the backs of my thighs, under my skirt. Big. Hot. Rough.
“I’m scared,” I tell him.
“I know.” He doesn’t stop. “Be scared. I’m still gonna have you.”
Something low in my belly clenches so hard it almost hurts. I’m supposed to be offended. I’m supposed to put my hand on his chest and push. Instead my thighs fall open a little wider all by themselves, and he sees it, and his eyes go dark.
“That’s what I thought,” he says.
He stands up, picks me up off that couch like I’m a bag of groceries, and carries me down the hall.
* * *
The bed’s huge and white. He drops me in the middle of it and stands at the foot looking down at me. I’m up on my elbows with my skirt rucked up and my bun coming loose, and I have never felt so naked in my life, and I’m fully dressed.
“Take off the shirt.”
My hands are shaking so bad I can’t get the first button. I try twice. He makes an impatient sound, puts a knee on the bed, grabs both sides of my shirt, and pulls. Buttons fly everywhere. One pings off the headboard.
“That’s my work shirt!”
“I’ll buy you a hundred.”
“It’s from the club, you can’t just…”
He unhooks my bra with one hand, and whatever I was about to say goes right out of my head.
My titties fall out heavy and loose, and the cold air hits my nipples, and he just stares. He stares so long I wanna cross my arms. I start to. He catches both my wrists in one hand and pins them over my head on the pillow.
“Don’t hide from me.”
“You’re staring.”
“I’ve been staring for two days. I’m not stopping now.” He lowers his head and drags his beard across the top of my breast, slow, and I gasp. “Look at you. Fuck. Look at you.”
Then he takes my nipple in his mouth.
Hot and wet, his beard scraping the soft underside while he sucks, hard, and I arch off the bed with a sound that bounces off the walls. He switches sides. His free hand’s spreading over my stomach. My soft stomach. The part I suck in all night at work. And he grabs it. Squeezes it. Like it’s his.
“Sasha…”
“You know what I thought the first time I saw you?” He’s kissing his way down my belly now. Licking the curve under my belly button. “I thought, I wanna see this big with my baby.”
