Page 33 of Hard to Judge

“Am I crazy?” I straighten and adjust my soaked panties and disheveled blouse. “Or are you just too close to see what’s at your feet?”

“And what is that?”

“Everything you’ve ever wanted.” I slip past him, type in the code, and shove open the front door. I leave Hota on the stoop to make a decision.

I’m pretty damn good at calculating. Like the best in the state for sure and probably the East Coast. I’ve been contracted by NASA, several medical institutions, and a handful of multibillion-dollar industries that don’t compete with my head of forensic accounting job at Judge Conglomerate. Yet I’m finding it nearly impossible to tabulate what Hailey is saying to me.

While my brain seemingly takes a hiatus, my body and instincts work overtime, clocking Hailey as she shoves open the door. My hand shoots forward, fully encapsulating her wrist. Hell, my fingers touch. She’s a tall, regal woman. Even so, she’s no match for a guy my size.

A gasp escapes her parted lips. The hint of fear in her reaction revs my blood. I yank her to me with a snarl.

Her back hits my front, and I close the door without a sound. God, she’s warm and soft. The desire to strip her bare and mark her flesh blooms in the crisp air.

I release her wrist, then flatten my left hand over her belly.

“Not so fast, sunshine.” I move us both back to the alcove and shove her against the wall once more.

Her fingers splay on the cold stone. A choked whimper wedges in her throat. Suddenly, my dick is harder than it’s been since I watched Arlo rail her on the coffee table in one of Crave’s private suites.

I wait for her to protest, to shove back, to scramble away. Only, she’s completely pliant. The pert globes of her ass nuzzle into my thighs, and her chest heaves against my abdomen.

“You forgot the dirty thing you want.” I lean forward, pressing her against the wall until her cheek meets the smoothly carved rock. My free hand coasts around the swell of her hip, over her ass, and then down her skirt-covered leg.

She arches into my touch like a perfect pussy. A sinister smile tugs at my furious lips. It makes me think of what she called me earlier. Pretty panther.

Hailey nicknamed me. It’s just words, yet somehow it seems like a raw and bubbled-skin brand.

I reach the edge of her boot and run my palm up the inside of her thigh. She’s not wearing any tights or leggings. It’s just skin on skin.

“You’re so warm.” I groan. “And greedy.”

Fuck, her skin is smoother than I remember.

It’s been so long since I’ve been with anyone, touched them, enjoyed their heat. Yes, I had my face buried in her cunt a few weeks ago, but only for a couple of minutes and only for Arlo’s pleasure. Obviously, I enjoyed every second, but this is different.

This is me taking what I want, consequences be damned.

My fingers curl into the weighty flesh of her inner thigh. Hailey pants, and her whole body shivers in my hold.

“If I touch your perfect pussy, will you be wet for me?”

“Find out,” she challenges. Her bravado has returned in full force. Oddly, it spikes my need higher than her shock and fear.

With the people I play with at Crave, I’ve needed to dominate them. My excitement is predicated on their anxiety and pain.

All except Arlo. His gaze and pleasure are all I’ve ever needed.

I’m pretty sure that's why I became a dominant.

I always like control and needed it to feel safe, but the fear and pain made the encounters less intimate. It separated sex from affection. It separated Arlo from everyone else. I treated them with respect and gave them what they wanted without giving away any part of me.

All I ever needed was Arlo.

Could it be the case with Hailey too? Could her pleasure mean more to me than her fear and pain?

“Sassy little sunshine.” I nip the edge of her jaw, increasing the pressure of each bite until she hisses.

“I’m not scared of you, Hota.”

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