Page 77 of Blackmail
“I…” He hisses and groans, quite possibly because the lack of any lube besides spit is causing him a bit of pain, perhaps because he’s getting close to orgasm. Knowing him as I do, probably both. It doesn’t escape my notice that he hasn’t responded to what I said. I don’t expect him to—at least not right now.
I slow down, just a fraction. We don’t have time for me to draw this out the way I want to, but I can’t resist the urge to edge him a little. To remind him how good I can make him feel. How much he loves my hands on him.
“God, it’s so fucking good,” he groans. “It’s like your hand is the perfect size to hit all my nerve endings. I didn’t expect it to be this good.”
“You think that’s all this is? The size of my hand? You know damn well it’s more, Simon. It’s you being perfect for me, and me making you feel the way nobody else can. It’s the way you respond to my touch in a way I know damn well none of the other men who pay you can make you feel. They don’t know you the way I do, do they? They never will. They don’t know exactly how to make you come because they don’t care, and even if they did, they wouldn’t know your body the way I do.”
His body tenses. He’s close again, and I don’t intend to stop him this time. Instead, I pull aside the collar of his shirt and sink my teeth into the spot we both love, right in the crook of his neck.
He shudders and throws his hand against the wall. “Oh, fuck. Fuck.”
With the murmurs of voices and the clinks of dishes beyond the door as our backdrop, I stroke him through his orgasm. I touch him until the pleasure turns to sensitivity and into pain. He moans when I offer him my hand, and he licks me clean while I throb with need for him. I’m hard as hell, yes, but it’s more than physical.
“If we weren’t in a public place, fucking you is exactly what I’d do.” I help him right his clothing and retie his tie.
He glances down. I’m obviously still hard in my trousers.
“What about you?”
“I’m fine for now.” I back him into the wall, once again pinning him with my body. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to go out there and have your little date with Drew. Fuck him or don’t fuck him, I don’t care because either way we both know you’ll be thinking about me.”
An overly cocky assumption? Yes. Or a fervent wish. I should have given a shit when I caught Tony cheating, but I didn’t. Telling him to leave was for the best. No more need to pretending in a marriage that had never truly mattered beyond what it could give me. I can blame Tony for cheating, but I wasn’t without fault.
Simon, on the other hand? I want him. And I want him to want me back, but not because I’m paying for his time.
So I’m taking a big swing, but big swings are what I do. They’ve gotten me to where I am today. Hopefully, I’ll manage one more.
I run my thumb over his plump lower lip. “While you’re spending time as Drew’s arm candy, I intend to get Tony’s agreement to sign off on the divorce if it’s the last fucking thing I do. And when you are ready to be with me without money or obligations in the way, you will come and let me know.”
He can’t say no to me this time. I won’t let him.
“There will always be money and obligations in the way.”
His words slice straight across my sternum. “Simon. Listen.”
“You listen. Even after I’ve quit escorting, I will be making a fraction of what you are. It would never be an equal partnership, and I won’t be some kept pet like your boy Tony was. Besides, I’m sure you think you mean what you’re saying now, but you wouldn’t be the first guy to make me promises and then walk away.”
“You mean your precious Elijah.” I nearly spit the words.
“He’s not my anything, and that’s the point. He told me he loved me and wanted to be with me, and then when things got real, he left me hanging.”
“If you’ve learned anything about me by now, it should be that when I make up my mind on something, I see it through to the end.” I have not changed my mind about Tony, and I sure as hell haven’t changed my mind about Simon.
“Then I guess I’ll see you when you get to the end.”
With that, Simon straightens his jacket and walks out, leaving me gasping for air, wondering if I’ve scored a victory or a loss.
Chapter
Twenty-Seven
SIMON
“Simon, I’m so glad to see you back at work, sweetie.” One of our administrators, Luella, pats me on the shoulder while I’m scarfing down a lunch of microwave noodles. “Poor thing, I heard you were so sick. I never got to thank you for being such a huge help before the storm.”
“Mm.” Of course the woman had to catch me when I’m eating. And while I’m busy thinking about the last words Sebastian said to me. It’s been days, and I keep playing them on repeat.
Who do you belong to?
