Книга - Holding My Breath

Holding My Breath
AM Hartnett


Book 2 in the Carried Away series.A passionate erotic romance perfect for fans of Sylvia Day.“It’s a skill not every man possesses, and it can’t be taught. That’s why I’m good at what I do.”For half his life Quinn has been making his living as a professional Casanova. Challenged by Molly to take his business elsewhere, he strikes a bargain with her: give him until New Year’s Eve and she’ll never see him again, and in the meantime he’ll make it worth her while.As their arrangement becomes a passionate affair, there’s no denying that Molly’s been waiting for him to come into her life for a very long time. She never imagined that a man like Quinn would be the one.









HOLDING MY BREATH

A. M. Hartnett





(http://www.mischiefbooks.com)




Copyright


Mischief

An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers

77–85 Fulham Palace Road,

Hammersmith, London W6 8JB

www.mischiefbooks.com (http://www.mischiefbooks.com)

An eBook Original 2014

Copyright © A. M. Hartnett 2014

A. M. Hartnett asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Ebook Edition © 2014 ISBN: 9780007587841

Version: 2014–08–21


Table of Contents

Cover (#u0b7b57a6-5d9a-5b6f-9633-41ce8bfbaa0e)

Title Page (#u0b489a31-dbdd-522a-adf1-67850993aa97)

Copyright (#u5b8d1ee1-78d6-5c41-a2a3-626e30fafc6b)

Prologue (#u18e22a71-f021-5424-b79f-109bd55b3277)

Chapter One (#ued4964a5-f648-54d6-8d6b-f5092e8ef92c)

Chapter Two (#u5b08e69c-e0b0-5fa2-a886-bbb5fa62bc00)

Chapter Three (#ufee7d9de-f995-5885-b960-47d17fd9dbf8)

Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

More from Mischief (#litres_trial_promo)

About Mischief (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)




Prologue (#ulink_a209255e-9510-53f9-a30e-8428ad7d1b9c)


Molly leaned forward and watched the man’s entrance into reception. She could see the lobby from her office and the atmosphere seemed to alter as he entered. She likened it to the uncanny charge that made the hairs on your arms stand up when a storm lost its patience and was ready to unleash. She’d been watching him for about three months, and she felt it every time.

He came in the same as always, a Ken doll fresh from his plastic cage, but not quite. No, the clean-shaven face and brown hair slicked down, the expensive suit and occasional glitter of that $3,000-dollar watch peeking from the French cuffs weren’t real.

What made him real were his hands. Save for the manicure, he didn’t have Armani hands. His were scarred, knuckles and joints knotted, and there was a squiggling line leading from the flesh of his thumb to his wrist.

He never tried to hide them. Nor did he now as he leaned against the front desk and folded one hand over the other. Molly had never given them more than a discreet look when she was the one to greet him, though some nights she longed to reach out and turn them over, to run her fingers over those scars, trace the lines on his palms and follow that bluish vein from his index finger to where it disappeared under those cuffs.

‘Good evening,’ she heard the clerk, Nick, greet him.

‘You too,’ the man said. ‘Can you please call up to room 435 and let them know their guest is waiting in the bar?’

‘Certainly, sir.’

He could have used the courtesy phone in the seating nook alongside the front desk, but she didn’t think he’d trade this part of the routine. It was a part of the image he had created. Using the courtesy phone to call a room direct was too subtle. Announcing his arrival at the desk was sordid and suited his image.

His swagger was pure confidence as he headed to the bar, or maybe it was arrogance. He slid the green and red tartan scarf from his neck and draped it over the coat he carried across his arm. Once in the bar, he went straight to his usual table where he could see the entrance and placed coat and scarf over the edge of a chair, then took the same seat as always.

Here, again, another snapshot: one arm hitched over the back of his seat, long legs stretched out under the table. The waitress quickly appeared to take his order and returned with something dark. There he waited, large hand turning the tumbler round and round. He didn’t drink. He never drank. Like everything else, the drink was for show, something to show off those enigmatic hands.

He incited hunger from the moment his companion got off the elevator. Molly had seen it happen at least three dozen times. She imagined that the short walk across the lobby to the bar would seem like miles to the woman he had come here to meet. The urge to be near him was always written all over them, and the more Molly watched, the more she understood it.

The elevator chimed, and she watched the drama unfold.

He never changed, but the women did. Most fell into the range of middle age, though some were younger than she was, while others had silver hair. A few dripped with diamonds and had faces pulled tight as a drum, but most came off as powerhouses in their own right. After working in hotels for the past decade and a half, Molly had grown accustomed to learning everything she needed to know about people, based on their wardrobes, demeanours and the credit cards they used.

She’d developed an odd admiration for the women who sat with the man in the bar. They believed they deserved the best, and, if she read the man right, he was the best.

The woman who slid into the seat opposite the man had checked in wearing a power suit. She had changed into a little maroon dress. While she hadn’t shed her powerhouse outer shell entirely, the bangles on her wrists and the hoop earrings made her appear flirty.

Molly often wondered if these women dressed for him or for themselves. She leaned towards the latter. Who was he to impress when he was a thing to be bought? They were there to pamper themselves. He, like the in-room massage, was a part of the experience.

Another guest approached the reception desk to check in. He was tall and broad and obscured her view of the lounge. When the man and the woman strode arm in arm past the reception desk Molly stifled a growl from the back of her throat. She’d seen the to and fro of sexual negotiations enough that she didn’t need to look, but she still wanted to watch it unfold this last time.

No matter, she thought. You’ll be seeing him soon enough.

The checking-in guest moved on, and Molly rose from her desk. She peeked around the corner in time to see the couple step into the elevator. As the doors closed, the man lifted the woman’s hand to his lips, and then he leaned in.

Molly stood on the threshold between her office and the reception desk. ‘Nick, would you mind coming in here for a moment?’

He nodded and spoke to the other clerk, then straightened his tie as he headed towards her. She blocked his way when he reached her door, and when he looked at her she lowered her voice.

‘You might want to bring that little green notebook you keep under the keyboard,’ she murmured, and tried not to smile at the flash of panic on his face. ‘Come on, Nick. There aren’t many tricks I miss in this place.’




Chapter One (#ulink_04ca9592-dd36-5882-9892-6faed12e6fa0)


She had just cracked the top on a bottle of water from the minibar when the workstation phone in room 720 lit up and chimed. She took a swig from the bottle, placed it on the credenza that housed the minibar, then strode to the phone.

‘Yes?’

‘Miss Tallery?’

‘Yes.’

‘Your guest has arrived,’ Nick said. ‘He’s waiting in the bar.’

‘Would you please ask him to come up?’

‘Certainly.’

Molly supposed she could have arranged for him to come to her office, but she wanted as much discretion as she could. It wouldn’t do to have a male prostitute sitting in her office. Someone might recognise him. Someone might think he was actually in the hotel’s employ.

There had always been the option of doing the cowardly thing by having a front-desk clerk tell the man he wasn’t welcome on the property again, but she couldn’t do that even to Nick, who would have been the best candidate for the job.

What if he caused a scene? She didn’t think he would, though. He thought far too much of his appearance. It was better to meet him on his territory and explain it herself.

A quick look in the mirror satisfied her. When she’d left her office shortly after five, she’d gone to a nearby café for supper and changed from her uniform to a sweater-dress, then left it on to keep him at ease. With crimson lipstick refreshed and glossy brown-black hair neatly combed, she looked like she was ready for date night.

Molly didn’t want to intimidate; she wanted to reason. When he walked through that door, she wanted him to think she was just another client eager for his special skill set.

She quickly rolled her tongue in her mouth to work up some of the saliva she had lost between answering the phone and now, then pressed her ear to the door and listened.

Through the rush of blood in her ears, she heard it: the faint chime of the elevator car reaching its destination, and then his footfall, growing louder.

It seemed to take for ever. She knew it was his and not some other guest’s. The thump-thump-thump matched the rhythm of his gait when he strolled across her lobby.

Molly stepped back and sucked in a deep breath, then ran her sweaty palms over her thighs.

The sound stopped, but nothing happened. He was there on the other side of the door, but he wasn’t doing anything.

He’s probably patting down his hair and checking his breath for freshness, she thought, and was tempted to stand on her toes to look through the peephole.

Finally, he knocked: a slow, rhythmic knock. Even that sounded seductive, and Molly’s breath swept from her body in a gale. She was actually nervous to meet this person who probably made more in a night than she did in a week by selling that gorgeous body.

Her hand was once again steady as she grasped the door handle. She took another moment to refill her lungs, then opened the door.

The man’s hand was raised mid-knock, wrist turned and long fingers curled into his palm. He held it there as he met her gaze, then cocked his head.

‘Sonia,’ he said, using the name she had given him.

It wasn’t a question. She knew it by the way her blood sang with the word. This was the first promise.

The things I’ll do to you, it said.

Molly held open the door and stepped aside. ‘Come in, please.’

She might as well have answered the door in nothing but her panties. He gave her one long, sweeping look and stripped her bare.

As she burned up, the man strode into the room and trailed the whiff of expensive cologne that had been his trademark since he first approached the reception desk. She touched her tongue to the roof of her mouth, and couldn’t tell whether it was the scent or his magnetism that made her mouth water.

With every step his dominance of the space became more oppressive, and the thought of closing that door, of closing herself in with him, brought back the pounding in her head.

She stood, frozen, and watched his movements. He draped his coat over the arm of the sofa and reached for the tartan scarf, then turned.

He was stunning in profile, a marble bust of Apollo given life, but as he glanced back at her and his mouth twisted into a smile he became the rogue.

‘Are you expecting someone else?’ he teased. ‘I prefer to work alone, but if you insist …’

Molly raised her chin and gave him a smile. ‘No, it’s just you and me.’

He sucked in a sudden sharp breath, then swivelled around. ‘I’ve seen you before. You work here.’

‘Yes,’ she admitted, and followed in his wake on wobbly legs. ‘That’s how I got your number.’

‘Nick.’ He chuckled and slowly tugged the scarf from around his neck. ‘Am I in trouble? Have I been a bad boy?’

She gave herself a mental high-five for not reacting to such a baiting question and folded her arms over her chest. ‘You know I’m the front-desk manager here, don’t you?’

‘I do.’

‘And you’ve been operating right under my nose for how long?’

He gave her a hundred-watt smile that made her wonder how much it cost him. ‘Nick and I’ve worked together. Did you know that he moonlights at a hotel a couple of blocks from here? We’re not in direct competition, you see, so we can scratch each other’s backs from time to time.’

‘I know. Nick has no secrets once you put a scare into him, and he has a very large network of … people who do what you do, I’ve discovered.’

He lowered himself into the armchair and sat in a variation on his trademark pose from the bar, with legs stretched out and forearms propped against the chair’s arms. She wouldn’t call his appearance kingly, not with that rakish grin. He came off more like a usurper who had won his throne through treachery.

‘And here I am, ready to “do what I do” for you.’ He drew his hands up in front of him, fingers forming a steeple. ‘If you are interested in a threesome, I’m sure I can arrange for Nick to waive his fee. His shift is done at eleven, isn’t it?’

‘I’m not interested in Nick. Even if I was, I’m sure I could get him without you.’

‘Ah, so I’m special.’

He laughed. It was a wonderful, rolling sound, and contagious. The corners of her mouth twitched with wanting to join in.

She took one end of the sofa for herself. The conversation had rooted her a little. After the waiting and watching, to be at the doors of negotiation made her feel a little more empowered.

‘So now you have me, but whether I’m willing to take your money in exchange is something altogether different. I can assure you that barring the more extreme acts I won’t mention, there’s not much I’m willing to say no to.’ He tapped his fingers together and narrowed his eyes in study. ‘I don’t normally ask questions, it’s not good business, but my curiosity is starting to get to me: why am I here?’

‘We’re overdue for a chat, aren’t we?’

‘I don’t think so, Sonia.’ He paused, and followed his words with a rumbling chuckle. ‘You’re using an alias, aren’t you? Why would that be? You could have taken me to the bar. Instead you’re secreted away with me in the honeymoon suite.’

She leaned forward. ‘You think I want to fuck you?’

He looked at her like he knew it gave her a rush to say it, like he knew that, in spite of her business-like tone, she was getting wet just sitting there across from him.

‘I think your intentions are honest, that you’re here to tell me to fuck off and never set foot in your lobby again, but … you are thinking about it, aren’t you?’ He leaned forward, forearms across his knees, and clasped his hands together. Long fingers layered over those scarred knuckles, and yet there was something gentle about his hands that made his wolfish grin more bearable. ‘You could never afford me. I ought to know, I got my start working in hotels so I know how much you take home. It would cost you at least a paycheque for two hours. Still, no wedding ring, so you could have disposable income. Besides, if you were married you’d strike me as the type to have an angst-ridden affair over paying for sex. You’re also not thinking of me as your last big hurrah before walking down the aisle: women who are facing the grim prospect of only one cock for the rest of their lives are much more gleeful.

‘I think …’ he whispered with such a lovely rasp that it curled Molly’s toes, ‘I think that you’d be after something much more rich. You strike me as the type of woman who saves her pennies, but every so often there’s a little indulgence you can’t resist trying.’

‘Do you do this with everyone?’ she asked, choking on a slight hitch in her voice.

‘Do what?’

‘Try and mindfuck them before you get your cock out?’

Once more that wonderful laugh exploded in the atmosphere like fireworks. ‘Would you prefer it if I took my cock out while I mindfucked you?’

‘I’d prefer to get to the matter at hand.’

He held his hands out in surrender. ‘Consider me scolded. Now, offer me something from the minibar and tell me you want me to stay the hell out of your hotel so I can give you all the reasons why that’s a bad idea.’

‘You don’t have to tell me why it’s a bad idea. Some of our best clients use your services, and if you go, they’ll go – and you can get your own something from the minibar if you want it.’

She crossed one leg over the other, and a tickle ran through her as his gaze moved along what little thigh she had exposed. She couldn’t keep it hidden this time. She shuddered, and he pinned her back with a look.

Seeing no point in denying the effect he had on her, she laughed. ‘You are good. I’ve only seen it from afar.’

‘It’s all in the details, isn’t it?’ He looked at the bottle she had abandoned, and got to his feet. ‘Everything is made up of little details. Everything. When I first meet a woman, I’m taking in everything about her and trying to work her out. You call it mindfucking, but it’s how I figure out what she wants me to be. I can get a sense of how she sees herself as soon as she comes off the elevator, and I engage her in the bar so I can strip her down before I take her to bed.’

He grasped her bottle, turned and studied her for a moment before pressing his lips to its mouth. She didn’t think this was intentional, but she couldn’t deny how erotic it was to see him with his head tilted back, eyes half-closed, and his throat pulsing as he drank.

When he had finished, he licked his lips and returned to the sofa.

‘It’s a little bit like going down on a woman,’ he went on. ‘She’ll tell you what she wants, but she won’t use words. She’ll use her body. It’ll be a look, a touch, a sound, or all of the above. She gets hot and starts to fidget, and you know it’s just right there, hidden just beneath the surface: all her secrets and desires. Then, like a veil being lifted, you’ve unlocked her.’ He leaned back and draped his arms over the back of the sofa, his expression smug. ‘It’s a skill not every man possesses, and it can’t be taught. It’s why I’m so good at what I do.’

‘As I’ve said, I think it’s time we discuss the matter at hand,’ she said, though she barely heard her own words through the thump of her heart beating.

‘I’d rather do it in a more comfortable setting, if you don’t mind.’

He didn’t need to say what he meant, and it took everything she had not to slide her gaze towards the bedroom.

Molly cocked her head to one side and smirked. ‘I can’t afford you.’

‘Well, here’s the thing, Sonia, the longer I sit here across from you and the more you fidget, the more inclined I am to waive my fee.’

‘Oh, I do have money for you.’

She got to her feet and tried to ignore the ticklish urge to shiver that ran across her shoulders as she moved to the table at the end of the sofa. The interest with which he watched her was so unnerving. Her back to him, she lifted her purse and took the few seconds she had with her face out of reach of his gaze to suck in a deep breath through puckered lips.

‘I booked your time and I’ll pay for it – or, rather, the company will – and we’ll hash this out.’

‘It’s a complicated matter. Are you sure you don’t want to at least take your shoes off?’

She glanced over her shoulder, enough to be sure he was still in his seat, enough to be sure he saw the lack of amusement on her face.

‘Last year, Barry REIT purchased our hotel from Taureau-Werner. Their brand is much different. Their focus is less on corporate clients and more on families. Maybe you’ve noticed that the pool has been closed for the past few weeks. When it reopens, the athletic pool will be gone and in its place will be an egg-shaped abomination with a water-slide. The lounge is next. Forget about spiced olives and venison carpaccio; it’ll be chicken fingers and personal pizzas.’

‘You don’t sound happy about the changes.’

‘I’m not,’ she admitted, shaking her purse and drawing its maw wide open. ‘I’ve been working here since I was sixteen years old. I stayed here because I liked the atmosphere. So, here’s my suggestion for you. You take your business elsewhere, to the Radisson or the Marriott or wherever. For the time being, anyway, Nick will continue his referrals, but you won’t return to the property.’

She caught movement from the corner of her eye, and jumped as he settled his hands on her hips. He had moved so quietly. She hadn’t even heard the sofa creak as he rose.

‘I have a counter offer.’

‘Take your hands off of me,’ she said in a shaky breath.

‘Just a moment. Just … settle.’

‘Don’t tell me to settle. If you don’t take your hands off of me, I’ll start screaming.’

He gave a low, rumbling laugh that danced over her shoulders. ‘Just hear me out. Give me until New Year’s Eve. Just another month and change, and that’s all.’

His breath beat against her cheek. She could feel it penetrate the skin and soak into her. It wasn’t as though he had any sort of grip on her; she could have moved aside and just evaded him, but it was as though that hand on her hip was an anchor he used to keep her against him.

She tried not to think of what he said about ‘unlocking’ a woman. She pushed it out of her head and pulled in a deep breath.

‘Why New Year’s Eve? Is that your busiest night?’

‘I’m not a pizza delivery man,’ he replied with laughter that skimmed over her ear. ‘New Year’s Eve is my last night. As in, I’m retiring after that.’

She turned her head just slightly. ‘Are you serious?’

‘Completely. I turn thirty-six on New Year’s Eve. I’ve been planning this night for a long time, and I would consider it a personal favour if you would let me have it unscathed.’

Molly opened her mouth to say something, but quickly discovered that she couldn’t come up with anything. She overflowed with questions that had only been slinking around her consciousness since she first noticed him all those months ago.

Only one poured out: ‘How long have you been doing this?’

‘Half my life. I started when I was eighteen.’ He squeezed his fingers into the swell of her hip. ‘Please, look the other way for six weeks, and then you’ll never see me again.’

‘Why should I?’

Molly went still as he dropped his chin on her shoulder.

‘We could come to some sort of arrangement,’ he said quietly.

‘Are you trying to bribe me?’ she scoffed. ‘Offering to cut me in or something?’

‘Or something. I like that.’ he murmured, wrapping his words around her as he said it again.

Or something.

The significance of ‘or something’ stole her objection. Delivered in such a soft, coaxing voice and mingling with the heat bleeding through her clothes, ‘or something’ swept her as far away as possible from what she knew she should do this moment.

He slid one hand forward until it lay flat on her stomach, and what little space left between them was closed.

‘You can tell me what you want, or you can show me.’

She turned her head and felt the heat from his mouth at the corner of hers. ‘I want you to take the money.’

He made a fist, bunching the front of her dress and tugging it up just a little, until the hem rubbed mid-thigh. Holding her at the nape of her neck, he nuzzled the sensitive slope. Only the faintest burn of bristle scraped against the skin, enough to raise goosebumps on her arms and legs.

‘And?’

She touched her tongue to her teeth. She hadn’t brought him here for this, but that ‘or something’ had made all the difference.

‘Or something’ had roused the wicked part of herself she hadn’t forgotten about and missed dreadfully. It whispered to her that no one would ever find out, and even if they did wouldn’t it be worth it? When would she have an opportunity like this again?

He propped his chin on her shoulder again. ‘What do you really want from me?’

She sucked in a breath in an attempt to claw back the words creeping over her tongue, but it was no use. ‘I want you to take my money and fuck me.’

‘That’s better,’ he said, and pressed his knee between her legs.

Molly was rendered breathless. Just a nudge, and she felt as though he had completely exposed her.

‘I’ll take your money,’ he went on. ‘Show it to me. Count it out.’

‘Don’t you trust me?’

‘I do. You’ve got a face I can trust, but I like experiencing a woman laying her money out. You can practically feel the temperature rising with each bill laid on top of another. Go on. Count it out for me.’

The tips of her fingers grew hot as she reached into her purse and drew out the fat envelope tucked between her wallet and cosmetics bag. As she scratched free the strip of tape that held the envelope closed, her skirt inched a little further up, nearly to her hipbones.

He pushed against her, the tip of his cock poking just above her ass. ‘Count.’

‘One hundred,’ she began, pulling out one bill and letting it flutter to the surface of the end table. ‘Two hundred …’

On and on she counted, one bill after another. Her hands began to tremble and her voice grew thick as she pushed it from the back of her throat. She glanced longingly aside to the water they had both been sipping, then lost the thought as he dug his fingertips into her.

‘You’re almost there.’ His words urged her on, but his actions only made it harder to speak.

The last bill fell, making a total of three thousand dollars, and with it she shuddered. His grip on the back of her neck eased but he didn’t withdraw.

‘There we go,’ he said, lips moving just below her ear. ‘It takes a certain kind of woman to pay for a hard cock. The best kind, in my opinion. Then again, I am a tad biased.’

The sting of his teeth pinched her skin, just long enough to give his words a punch. Molly was completely defenceless as he slipped the other hand down and grasped her skirt. She couldn’t conjure a single objection as he dragged the thick woollen dress over her head. She raised her arms and expelled a sigh as the room went dark.

His words continued as he let the dress drop to her feet in front of her. ‘The thought of using me usually gets a woman wet. I’m just a hard dick to ride, but that’s not what’s pushing your buttons, is it? It’s that you’re just a pussy to me. You’re just something to fuck, just like me.’

She gave her head a shake as he turned her around, but what was there to object to? Her entire body rebelled against her, silencing her sensible side. She reached between them and yanked the buttons of his jacket, then pushed it over his shoulders. As the garment bunched at his elbows, it struck Molly that in spite of his submissive expression his look was feral.

She took a long look down his body. As she met his gaze, her mouth split into a grin, and she reached between his thighs.

So it wasn’t just the swagger, after all.

‘“Just a hard dick”? It doesn’t feel like “just a hard dick” to me.’

Molly closed her hand around the hard column and watched his face as she kneaded its length. He gave no reaction, until she reached the tip that tented against his fly, and pressed her thumb to it. A puff of air and a slight crease on his brow let her know he was enjoying this as much as she was.

She plucked at his buttons until the shirt fell open. The expanse of his chest appeared to her a little at a time until the shirt was free. For a moment she was astounded at how glorious he looked. She grasped the bunched fabric and hung on, anchored with him in the chaos of her beating heart.

When he opened his mouth to speak again, Molly reached up behind his head and pulled him down. She needed a reprieve from those delectable words that ignited her like a tongue teasing between her legs. He bowed towards her, and Molly bent forward, mouth watering with the need to taste him.

At first there was only his $300 cologne surrounding her, reminding her how he made his money.

You’re just something to fuck, just like me.

There it was, that salt and heat she’d craved. She swiped her tongue over his pectoral, then crooked her head to close her lips around his nipple.

He pushed forward and went taut. She was tempted to push back at him and thrust him down on the sofa he’d vacated. She wanted to eat him alive. She gave it back to him, biting down and crooking her fingers to dig her nails into his hard forearms.

With a throaty sound he shrugged off her hands and wormed out of his jacket and shirt. She gave him another nip and curled her tongue upward, then reached for his belt.

No longer passive, he slipped his fingers into her hair and squeezed down, drawing her face upward.

He took her wrists and shoved them to her sides. ‘My turn.’

He loosened her bra-straps until the cups buckled, then reached around her. The bra dropped. He splayed his hand across her back and, forehead pressed to hers, shoved his fingers past her waistband.

Molly rose on her toes as he scissored two fingers through the sticky lips around her clit. She sucked in a quick breath and held it, and held his gaze as he tugged up and down, up and down, not in tune with the rhythm of her pulse but making that perfect beat that grew louder and louder.

‘I want –’ she said, quietly enough that she could take it back if she changed her mind, and change her mind she did.

He delved lower and wriggled the tip of his middle finger into her crack. ‘You want … more?’

She turned her head to nod, but he raised his other hand and cupped her cheek.

‘Tell me,’ he said, and nearly toppled her when he pushed a second finger inside. ‘Tell me what you want.’

The shock of having this stranger, this prostitute invading her pussy paralysed her. Inch after inch slid into her juicy passage, joints bumping until his knuckles brushed against her.

He pressed his mouth to her temple and whispered, ‘Tell me …’

She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She was merely forming words without meaning anything. Words were something he conjured as he flexed his fingers inside her.

‘Let me hear it, Sonia.’

He went deep once more, then flicked his thumb across her clit.

She couldn’t keep silent any longer, nor could she keep her hands to herself. She pressed them to his chest and squeezed her legs around his hand.

‘I want you to call me Molly,’ she said, and ran her hands down the hair-wisped surface of his chest. ‘That’s my name.’

‘Did you bring anything for me to play with? A little pocket vibrator you keep in your purse, maybe?’

She looked up at him. Could he really not have heard her the one time she needed to be heard, after she had made her only demand?

He raised his brows. ‘I didn’t think so. So you’ve brought no toys, save for the one you just gave me: your real name. Another woman might have built a fantasy around it and become someone else and I would have played along even though I’ve known your real name all along, Molly Archer, but you want this for yourself. You want this for Molly.’

She pressed her fingers into his chest and nicked him with her nails. A rush of excitement passed through her when he flinched, and again as he stroked into her wet passage. Her next words trickled out with laughter. ‘Stop talking and show me what you can do.’

‘That’s a good girl, Molly.’ His mouth split into a grin, showing off perfect teeth she didn’t doubt he had paid handsomely for, and he returned his hand to her back. He held her as he pumped his fingers in and out, and Molly laughed again. He was wrong about her name. She didn’t want him to use it as a sex toy. She wanted him to use her as a sex toy.

‘I think we’ve both had enough of these.’ He withdrew his hand and before she had a chance to draw a breath, he shoved her panties down to her ankles.

As soon as she shuffled out of them, he pressed her down into the chair and stood over her. The light from the window was behind him. It turned him to shadow but left the definition of his round shoulders and narrow hips as he worked his belt free.

She’d always imagined that he folded his fine clothes and placed them in a neat pile before taking his women to bed, but he showed no care with them now. He lifted one foot and then the other to loosen his laces, and shucked off shoes and socks. With just the slightest movement of his narrow hips, his trousers joined the rest of his clothes in a heap that he nudged aside.

With his thumbs hitched in the waistband of his jockeys, he stared down at her with that smirk still on his face. It was as though he was reading her thoughts, as though he knew she wanted to reach out and touch him like he had touched her, to slide her hand between cotton and hard flesh and feel that magnificently thick cock throb against her palm. Her cheeks were so hot that she was sure her need showed on her face.

Yet she saw no reason to hide from him any longer, and so she parted her legs just enough to let him see the glisten of her juices.

A long, low, breathy sound came from him. He moved aside, just enough to come into the light, and he kept his eyes on her as he shoved down his shorts. Molly couldn’t maintain the same focus. She dropped her gaze and bit down on her bottom lip.

She wasn’t surprised to find him as presentable without his clothes as with. He was groomed and trimmed, fully erect and achingly sexy, and she longed to lean forward and run her tongue through the shine of precome.

The sorcerer that he was, he took just what she wanted and turned it against her. He grasped his cock with one hand and reached out to run his thumb across her bottom lip.

With a moan, Molly snaked her tongue out and flicked it over his thumb.

‘There we go,’ he said softly, and swept his thumb back and forth with the same rhythm as he was using to stroke his cock. ‘I like a woman who runs her mouth while I’m fucking her, and I love one who likes to use her mouth.’

He paused and tipped his thumb onto her tongue. Molly felt out of her own body as she puckered her lips and sucked him. He’d transformed her into this voracious thing that couldn’t get enough.

When he leaned down, she greeted his mouth with the same hunger. He returned it, hands in her hair, licking and sucking to match her and ultimately overtake her. Her lips were sore and swollen by the time he withdrew, but her heart raced and her blood simmered with the need for more as he dropped onto his knees. He merely placed his hands on her knees and smirked as he pushed them apart.

‘Well, Molly, here we are.’

‘Yes, here we are,’ she repeated in a whisper. She tucked her feet, still in her pumps, on the edge of the sofa. She was sure her need was written all over her body in dark splotches, staining her cheeks, rising on her breasts and splashing the whites of her inner thighs. She could feel every pinprick of heat with the slow stroke of his fingers, and eased back against the cushions with a sigh.

He snaked his tongue across his upper lip and settled it against his front teeth. A crease formed between his brows as he rubbed his fingers through her slick pussy.

‘I’m a bit of a traditionalist,’ he said. ‘I like to make an impression. I can’t think of a better way, can you?’

He placed his other hand on her mound, and as he parted her slick lips with two fingers he snapped his gaze to hers. He lowered his head, only to stop when his mouth was just above her exposed clit and his hot breath streamed against her. A smile quirked on his mouth.

‘How rude. You’ve given me two first names, and I haven’t even given you one. Allow me to introduce myself.’ Once more he flicked his tongue against his lips, and Molly curled her toes against the soles of her shoes. ‘My name is Quinn Pattengale, and that’s the only one I need.’




Chapter Two (#ulink_2c01937e-a165-5dbd-8f15-3d0b2c21fa4d)


Quinn.

She mouthed his name. She hadn’t asked before, not when Nick had given her the number, not when she’d sent those texts to arrange this meeting, and not earlier when he’d entered the room.

She hadn’t wanted to know, not really, and now that she did, an odd feeling crept across her shoulders. Knowing his name made this raw and real.

The sense faded with the first swipe of his tongue over the puffy hood surrounding her clitoris, then vanished completely as his fingers curled, pushing and pulling the wet folds. Even though she lifted her hips to him, Quinn drew back and maintained his slow torture. Fingers and tongue conspired to build her longing but the man, the mastermind behind it all, wouldn’t give her release.

One glance down at him turned her ravenous. His gaze was upon her, eyes shining and brows raised slightly. As though he had been waiting for her to give him back her attention, he flexed his fingers and curled his tongue.

For a moment he merely cradled her aching clit on the tip, but that moment seemed timeless. She was perfectly still on the outside, not even breathing, but on the inside a feral thing raged. It swelled at the back of her throat, roaring and spitting, commanding her to take control, to push down on his head and grind his mouth against her wet pussy.

The hand that remained on her knee slipped out of sight. The feeling of being penetrated unlocked her silence. She reached out and pushed her fingers through his gelled hair, but she didn’t push down. She didn’t have to. She simply curled her fingers against his scalp, then moaned as he licked around and around.

Molly had entered this suite at least two dozen times since coming to the St James Suites, but to her it had always been a white box filled with ordinary furniture. She wondered how some people out there could be so turned on at the thought of coupling in a hotel room. After all, it was just a room.

Yet as he pushed two fingers deeper, she felt the sin dripping from the walls and creeping to surround her. The curtains were open and, although all the lights were off in the office building opposite the hotel, Molly tingled at the thought of someone watching in the darkness, hand on their cock or pussy as they watched. She moaned louder and fantasised about being heard by some passer-by who couldn’t resist the urge to press their ear to the door – a fellow guest or, better, one of the porters who would pass her in the hall and never know it was Molly making those noises.

And this man, this Quinn, this male prostitute with the long fingers gliding against her inner wall and tongue stroking back and forth …

He dragged his tongue downwards and slowly, sinfully withdrew his fingers. His gaze finally left her, lids fluttering closed as he fucked his tongue in and out of her.

A hungry sound came from him. It vibrated through her pussy and spread in her abdomen. She clutched at him, closing her fingers around the tacky clumps of hair. The sting she must have delivered spurred him on, and thrust his tongue deeper.

‘You big tease, is this the impression you wanted to make?’ she hissed through her teeth, then shuffled her legs until they draped over his shoulders.

He opened his eyes and drew back, wet mouth twisted in a grin. ‘You paid for two hours, and I like to make sure you get your money’s worth.’

Moving quickly, he slipped his hands under her ass. Molly released him as he dragged her aside, then unseated her until her shoulders were against the cushions and her head tucked into the crevice at the corner of the sofa. Her grip on him loosened, she reached over her head and grasped the pillows as he raised her up.

Forearms speckled with copper hair formed twin bars across her thighs. As disorienting as it was to be suspended nearly upside-down, it was the lapping of his tongue around her clit that gave her the sense of bobbing aimlessly in a vigorous surf. She tucked her ankles between his shoulder blades and rocked in tune with the hot sweep of his tongue.

He followed the slick trail back down to the mount of her cunt, but Molly wanted no more of his teasing. She slipped one hand along her body and used her fingers to spread herself out as he had done. This time he did as she beckoned. His gaze on her hot face, he dragged his tongue back and forth over her clit and over her fingers.

Now she didn’t care about anything else, not the open curtains or anyone who might be peeping outside, not the pile of crisp bills on the table and how the money was what had brought him there. The only thing in her world was the building heat between her legs.

‘Oh, yes, suck me like that,’ she managed to say through the thickness at the back of her throat.

Another growl poured out of him and through her, into the atmosphere, and she moaned as the suction of his mouth became insatiable. She became light-headed with the rush of blood through her body. Quinn twisted his head, widening his slick mouth and sealing his lips around her.

She couldn’t get enough air in her lungs, and so, as the intensity of his mouth built and built and reached its pinnacle, she stopped breathing.

With a flick of her wrist she clamped her hand over his and dug her nails in, then let her body take over. His tongue revived and danced over her clit. He squeezed her thighs to keep hold of her as she began to buck against him.

On and on it went, wave after intoxicating wave until she drowned in it.

Molly gasped, releasing the last air she had trapped inside her, as the swell abated and left her sensitive. He held on, not as firmly as before but held on nonetheless, and licked down to her throbbing gash.

That decadent tongue fuck began again. She turned her head, and through the splotches of light before her eyes she saw the leaves of paper fluttering with every breath she took.

One hundred … two hundred … three hundred …

She counted with every thrust of his tongue, every penny she had paid him to be here, then closed her eyes.

Down he went and shrugged off her legs, letting her knees hook into his elbows. Through her lashes she watched him study the slippery conclusion of the glorious climax that still throbbed in her clit.

‘When was the last time someone spread you open and gave you a hard fuck? Not a fast one that would rattle the teeth in your head, but a slow screw you can taste.’ He leaned forward, holding her open once more as he beamed that smile at her. She shook her head, and he gave a little shrug. ‘Maybe I was wrong about you. Maybe you want to be bent over with a hand in your hair and a cock stretching your ass.’

‘Must you …’

‘Mindfuck you? I have to admit, I get off on it a little.’ He let her legs drop and dragged her closer. He was suddenly serious, mouth firm and eyes hot. ‘Or maybe you want me to lie back and let you do what you want with me. Women like you can be hard to figure out. You always want one extreme or the other. Why don’t I take you into the bedroom and find out which side of the coin you are?’

Molly sat up and looked down between her legs, at the shining tip of his erection. As sated as she was, the temptation was killing her. She had to muster every bit of resistance in her just to speak.

‘Why don’t we take a breather?’

The tip of that hot tongue touched his upper lip, and something settled in his expression that made her heart pound even faster. He merely held her in place. His cock rested against her belly, and with its urgent throb she felt the need to relent and let him slide deep into the wet passage he’d made.

With a shake of her head, she managed to send some of the ash into the atmosphere, but the fire inside her kept burning. Now that the euphoria he had left her with started to fade, something unpleasant crept up. Unable to look at him, she writhed out of his grip and turned away from his inquisitive gaze.

‘Ah,’ he said at last, and got to his feet as she gathered up the money she’d laid out. There was a change in his demeanour. He had become softer in spite of the hard thing that jutted from the copper curls between his legs. ‘Gone shy on me, have you?’

‘It’s not that,’ she murmured, and resisted the urge to scoot away from him as he sat down next to her. ‘Really, it’s not. That was beyond spectacular, but –’

‘But nothing.’ He took the money from her and reached across her to put it back on the table. ‘If it’s what you need, I’ll stop talking. I’ll do what you say.’

‘I shouldn’t have done that.’ God, did it have to bite so much to say it out loud? ‘I really shouldn’t have done that, but there’s nothing I can do about it now.’

He took her hand, too quickly for her to draw back, and closed it around the crest of his erection. ‘You can let me do it again. You’ve paid for two hours, and you’ve barely used one. You might as well.’

It struck her how genuine and boyish he seemed now when he smiled. There was just the hint of the scoundrel at the corner of his mouth, but otherwise he simply looked pleased as he used her hand, slicked by his precome, to jerk himself.

It was impossible to resist. His magnetism was much too powerful. What was left of her common sense packed its bags and took off and, just like she’d never had reservations at all, Molly squeezed down.

‘Tricky boy.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

That smirk shimmered on his mouth, but was gone again as she kneaded inch after inch.

‘You got yourself all worked up and now you want me to take care of it.’ She twisted her head around and glanced over his shoulder at the digital clock on the table. ‘I suppose I can spare a couple more minutes. The damage is done already.’

Part of her wondered if she had gone mental, jerking off a gigolo she was paying to leave the premises, but as he tilted his head back and closed his eyes, Molly realised that this was one part of sex she had forgotten about, forgotten that she adored: watching a man as his orgasm built and built.

It had been a year and a half since she’d done anything with a partner that didn’t need rechargeable batteries, and the arse-end of her marital sex life wouldn’t have won any gold medals. Lying dormant for all this time had been this compulsion to see what she was doing to him written on a lover’s face.

And this one, well, he was holding nothing back. Eyes closed, mouth slack save for when he pursed his lips to gather moisture, the sound of pleasure poured out of him like he was a faucet she’d turned on. Regardless of how good he’d been with that tongue, his need for release was something that had no price tag.

Intending only to spit into her palm so she could work him a little harder, Molly leaned down. His hand instantly landed on her neck, the pressure urging her mouth closer to his cock. She turned to stone in her resistance, and he immediately relaxed his grip and lifted his head.

‘Sorry, I –’

Molly simply released him, and dropped to her knees before him.

‘I must be out of my mind,’ she murmured, and flashed him a smile as she grasped his cock and thrust forward. ‘I must be out of my fucking mind.’

A deep line formed between his eyes as she took hold of his cock at the balls, then softened once she closed her lips around that hot crest. His head wobbled, as though he was torn between the urge to resume his passive pose and his desire to watch her.

She held his gaze as she mouthed him, and when he let out a bubbling laugh she couldn’t help but return it. ‘What?’

‘I like you,’ he replied, the last word hitching as she dragged her tongue through the moisture oozing from the groove. ‘I like you, and it just occurred to me why I like you. You’re just like me, in a way.’

Molly licked her palm, then jerked the soft skin around his shaft. ‘Explain.’

‘You put on the same costume I do: the hair sleeked and flattened, the smoky eyes, the red lips and the matching nails. Men see you walking through the lobby while they’re sitting at the bar and they picture you like this, on your knees and sucking their dicks. It’s good business. It keeps them spending their money on the property, and it keeps them coming back. You and I both sell sex, but in different mediums.’

He was wrong. Maybe once upon a time she’d dressed and painted to attract the opposite sex, but those days were over. The slim skirts and perfect make-up were for the woman looking back at her in the mirror and no one else. The desire she wanted was her own; because it made her feel good to see that on the surface she was in complete control.

And yet the more she thought about it, she liked what he had said. She liked the comparison he’d made. That person she became every morning when she put on her face, raised the hem of her skirt just a few inches and never buttoned herself completely, so as to leave a little shadow of cleavage. He’d seen himself in her, and he’d used it to strip her down.

Molly took a mouthful, deeper and deeper until she could no longer hold his gaze. As she lifted her head she sucked him hard, and chuckled as he sucked in a hissing breath through his teeth.

She pushed up onto her knees and cradled the length between her tits. Quinn chuckled. His expression more victorious than smug, he tucked his hands behind his head and stretched his legs out around her.

‘Make me come on your tits.’

‘Are you reading me? That’s what I think you want by doing this?’

He gave a little shrug. ‘No, I thought we were doing what I wanted now, and I want to come on your tits.’

If he had asked her again what she wanted, by now her answer would have been for him to push her down onto the carpet and pump away until she no longer felt the need to be filled up.

As she wrapped her hand around his cock and bent her head to suckle him, she knew that she could still ask – no, tell him what she wanted, and he’d give it to her. And now, even though her cunt dripped fresh for a hard fuck, what she wanted was to give him what he wanted. He’d transformed his want into hers.

This time, when he cupped the back of her head, she closed her eyes with a moan and worked every inch into her throat, then joined her other hand to the first.

‘God, yes, that’s good,’ he expelled in a low rumble, and as she drew back he lifted his hips and pushed down.

She took him again, and again and again as he rocked upwards. She still sucked him, still squelched that hot length between two palms slicked by saliva and precome, but he drove her with his thrusts and filthy words.

‘That mouth. Jesus, that pretty red mouth. More. Faster. Suck me harder.’ He twisted her hair in his hand like she had done to him and drove over her tongue. ‘Come on, Molly, you can do better than that.’

Even though his words were broken by the huff and puff of trying to keep his breath, he still managed to run his mouth. His voice had taken on a mocking tone that spurred her on.

With his grip on her becoming more precarious, Molly took charge. She became his little sex toy, rocking up and down on her knees and bobbing her head to meet his thrusts, all the while tugging the soft, slick skin around his shaft.

He finally lost his words, instead spitting out frantic, nonsensical, sounds. He dropped his hands to his sides. A quick glance told her this wasn’t an act of submission. He clenched the sofa cushion between his fists; if he had been holding her head he would have torn her hair from the roots, or at least choked her.

Molly took him balls deep one last time, then sucked him hard as she slowly withdrew until there was only the tip resting on her tongue. She smiled up at him as she swirled her tongue over the smooth head, then squeezed down on him.

‘If you want to come on my tits, you could at least be a gentleman and watch,’ she murmured.

Wild blue eyes flashed at her as she took him in the crevice between her breasts once more and cupped his balls. Beneath her hands she felt the eruption begin, the mad tattoo of blood rushing through veins. She rolled her shoulders and pushed up, thrusting his dick into the tight valley she had created, and nearly laughed with elation as he lurched forward with the first hot spurt.

Molly tipped her head back and let him rain over her. It had been ages since she felt so dirty. She bowed her head and let the last drops ooze onto her lips. Looking back up at him, it pleased her to find him still looking down on her with a mixture of admiration and defeat. She licked her lips and pushed down on his bare thighs as she got to her feet.

She turned and he stopped her with just a hand on her hip.

‘That mouth,’ he whispered, then his smile returned. ‘The money you could make with that mouth.’

‘You couldn’t afford me,’ she replied, then turned out of his reach.

She grabbed her purse on the way to the bathroom, glancing back only to be sure he was still watching. She wasn’t sure why it was important, but she liked the lingering hunger on his face.

‘Will you have someone make up the room again?’ he called to her as she scrubbed her mouth in front of the mirror.

‘Why do you want to know?’

‘I’m just curious. I thought it might be a waste to have someone come in just to do the bathroom.’

‘Meaning?’

‘It wouldn’t take them that much longer to do the bed, would it?’

She laughed as she scrubbed her chest clean, then delved into her purse for her face powder. ‘You’re tenacious, aren’t you? You just blow your load all over me and you still want me on my back.’

‘On your back, on top of me, on your knees.’

He appeared in the doorway behind her and leaned against the jamb, arms crossed over his chest. He looked absolutely predatory as he looked down her body.

‘It won’t take me long to get hard again. I could play with you and keep you wet and coming until then.’

Even if she’d been able to hide the flush spreading over that woman in the mirror, she saw little point in denying it. She had just sucked his cock with such enthusiasm she could still see the marks of her lipstick smeared across the shaft. She clipped the compact shut and went for her lipstick.

‘I’m sure you could, and I’d like that very much, but no, and the clock is ticking.’

‘Forget about the money.’ He took two steps and pressed against her, pinning her between his body and the vanity. ‘I like you. I like you and I want to fuck you for the fun of it.’

God, he makes it so hard, doesn’t he?

She focused on filling in the bow shape of her mouth as he pressed his chin into her shoulder. If she did, who would tell? Nick? Hell, no. If she called down to the desk and told him to mark the suite as full for the rest of the night, he’d keep quiet and she could stay right here with Quinn until he had wasted her to nothing with that delicious body.

As he squeezed his fingers between her legs and glided easily into her sex, she almost relented.

Instead she squirmed enough to push him off. She didn’t look at him as she went to work on combing her fingers through her hair. ‘I can’t. I still need my job in the new year.’

Once in the living room, she started to collect her scattered and crumpled clothes. She needed a good scrub-down, but now that she’d put the brakes on this … sweet Jesus, this sordid episode, she needed to put some space between them. A jingling sound drew her attention back to him, and she was oddly disappointed to find him drawing his slacks up his thighs.

‘About our arrangement …’ he said.

Molly dragged her dress over her head and spoke through the fabric. ‘I don’t suppose there’s any harm in giving you until the new year. After that, I don’t want to see you again.’

She shoved her head through the neck and jumped to find him standing in front of her.

‘Our arrangement.’

‘We don’t have an arrangement.’

He looked unconvinced, and completely gorgeous with his chest still bare and his hair all rumpled. She itched to reach up and smooth down the ruddy spikes she had made.

Instead, she hiked her purse onto her shoulder and took a deep breath. ‘Take your time. I won’t have housekeeping up here until the morning – and don’t forget …’

She glanced at the envelope on the sofa.

‘Trust me, I won’t,’ he said, but his smile said it wasn’t the money he was talking about as he shrugged into his shirt. ‘I’ll see you around, Molly.’

She could have purred over her name lilting, liquid, off his tongue. It ran through her as she headed for the door and left her light-headed.

‘If you change your mind, you have my number,’ he called to her. ‘You know my working hours. Otherwise, I’m yours for a little more of that “or something”.’

* * *

What had long been a habit for Molly had evolved into a deliberate routine she was certain she’d feel lost without.

Every workday she’d close and lock the door, drop her purse, kick off her shoes, then lean against the door with her eyes closed. In a series of deep breaths, she’d push the day away: the boring hours of paperwork, the bitchy guests and the gripes from the staff, the mountain of bills she’d ignore, and all the other garbage in her life. A long sigh and all of it would flake away.

Nothing was different today. She still sealed herself in. She still let her purse fall onto the doormat and pushed her shoes off, but this time when she leaned back she lifted her gaze to the ceiling.

Her sigh was different. It wasn’t relief or exasperation. This slow exhalation was lush and satisfied, and with her second breath she let out an airy, disbelieving laugh that shook her shoulders.

She’d had sex with a stranger who made his living with that talented tongue and hard body.

When she’d left work that morning, she certainly hadn’t intended to indulge in some illicit encounter in the honeymoon suite, though she wouldn’t have been the first. In fact, when she’d first started at the front desk she’d developed a camaraderie with the lothario bartender: her friends got one free round every time she passed him a key card to an empty room so he could spend his break with whoever he had been flirting with. From kitchen staff and deliverymen, to housekeepers and porters, Molly doubted there was a nook left in the hotel that hadn’t been used for the purpose of sexual congress.

She’d always abstained from fucking at work. The fear of losing her job trumped the high of being bad. The closest she’d ever come was giving Aaron a hand job in the parking garage after a Christmas party.

So far she’d evaded regret about what had happened with Quinn. She expected it to creep upon her as she moved through the darkness to the living room, but when she turned on the light and sank down on the sofa, nothing like it manifested.

Out of the shadows came a haughty little figure with glaring yellow eyes. Up until today, Scot had been the only male in her life since Aaron moved out. It was a simple chieftain/servant relationship, and as far as roommates went the feline was tolerable. He sat primly in the archway where the living room met the dining room and stared. This was supposed to be her cue to get up and feed him, but with her tap against the edge of the sectional he strutted forward. Apparently the promise of a belly-rub was as good as the promise of food, maybe better.

With the cat sprawling on her lap, Molly scratched his stomach and turned on the television, but paid no attention to the 24-hour news station. While the sensible side of her enumerated the risks of indulging with someone who sold sex, the wilder side ached at the memory of Quinn’s hot mouth on her sex, and rolled her eyes like a petulant child being scolded.

She conjured that James Bond package he sold. She remembered him telling her he had his limits, and he didn’t need to specify that risky sex was off the menu. Like any other dealer in the illicit, Quinn kept his product pure. It wouldn’t do for one of his well-paying clients to discover she’d been left with an unpleasant souvenir of her time with him. Word would travel fast, and he’d be done.

Scot broke her reverie with a twist off her lap and an annoyed croak. She relented and followed him to the kitchen. She couldn’t tell if she was still slippery from their time together or if this wetness rubbing against her panties was from remembering it. After filling Scot’s bowl, she delved into the fridge-freezer and pulled out a frosted bottle of vodka.

It was fire and ice as it went down, and just what she needed. There was a time when she used to add a splash of soda and juice, but since her marriage failed and two had become one, she took her liquor neat.

In fact, the last time she’d diluted her liquor was the same night she last had sex. It had been her anniversary, and she and Aaron had returned from an uncomfortable dinner. As he’d showered, she’d gulped down a screwdriver – her second – and resigned herself to the inevitability of sex that night. She was sure that Aaron was as unenthusiastic as she was, but when they’d got into bed together he was hard. Less than a minute of foreplay preceded sex that not even lubricant could make bearable. When it was over he had slept, and Molly took herself downstairs. Sore between her legs, her soul dried and brittle, she’d poured herself another drink and wiped away tears that squeezed out from behind her eyelids like acid.

It was an episode she tended to dwell over when she’d had a bad day and needed a drink. She’d sit at the kitchen table and sip, brimming with resentment at Aaron for not making an effort to make her come. As the vodka soaked into her brain, she’d drag up all of his faults, sexual and otherwise, before turning to hers until she passed out drunk.

Not tonight. Tonight, something wonderful and electric ran thick through her veins.

She leaned against the island and thought of Quinn’s tongue gliding between her pussy lips. For as long as she’d live, she’d never forget it.

She pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth as her thoughts turned to how unabashedly he’d watched her while she sucked him, like he’d needed to forge the same connection she craved, in order to get off.

Was it always like that for him? Was it a part of the package? Flick a switch and he’d turn on all that virility that made a woman feel like fucking her was the best goddamn thing to ever happen to him?

She didn’t want to think about it. Not with the bite of her drink mingling with the lethargy he’d left her with and creating a delectable potion in her blood. She left the bottle to perspire on the tiles and pulled her dress over her head as she went barefoot down the hall.

An odd feeling struck her just before she reached the bathroom. She halted and turned, stomach churning and hands turning cold as she reached out. The knob on the spare-room door was old and loose and rattled when she wrapped her hand around it.

Every so often, usually on a Saturday morning when a long weekend stretched bland and empty before her, she’d get it into her head that she’d replace the whole door and sometimes would even make it to the hardware store. Wandering the aisles, she’d be dazzled by paint chips and crown moulding and think about what she could do with the room inside if she could hold onto that ambition that crept in. Yet she always left the hardware store empty-handed and weak-kneed.

It had been weeks since she’d stood before this door like this, but only hours since she’d thought about it. Usually its presence rushed at her towards the end of the day when her feet began to ache and her thoughts would turn to home, and the room would linger.

She’d last thought about it as she rode the elevator up to the honeymoon suite, and then Quinn had wiped her life’s entire residue away. She hadn’t thought about the room at all.

Molly reached up and with her index finger traced the shape of the rubber-duck sticker on the outside of the door. Guilt about having forgotten about the room made her arm tingle and threaten to go numb. Rather than welcome it like she usually did, she took a step back and squared her shoulders.

‘Not today,’ she said almost cheerfully.

Not today, she repeated in her head as she ventured into the bathroom. Not on a day when a man as wicked as Quinn had awakened that part of herself she never thought she’d see again.

Today she was going to be that woman whose knees were a little burned from the carpet and whose thigh muscles gave an aching whimper with every step, and who was immensely proud of both.

It was that woman who emerged from the bathroom in her kimono, still damp and leaving small puddles as she made her way back to the foyer. She collected her purse from where she’d dropped it by the door and pulled out her phone, then returned to the sofa.

One didn’t simply pick Quinn out of the adult personals. The night she’d called Nick into her office, she’d sat with her hands folded on the desk in front of her as he made the call. She’d read about websites dedicated to connecting with gigolos, but according to Nick this small network of men who worked the local hotels found their clients via referral. Front-desk clerks and bartenders kept names and earned their cuts, more affiliates than pimps. They made the calls and provided contact details. Quinn, Nick explained, wasn’t available at short notice. He had a list of clients he served several times a week, and he took on new ones at his discretion.

A detailed message had been left on Quinn’s voicemail, and a few hours later, as Molly was settling into bed, he sent a text to his ‘prospective client’. The exchange had been short and businesslike. He named his price, noting that any special requests would cost extra. Particular fantasies could be sent via email. She texted back that she just wanted to sample the fixed menu, and a date and time was agreed upon.

As the newscast on the television provided white noise just beyond her attention span, Molly scrolled back and forth through those messages. She’d been frustrated at the time of the exchange, but now she understood it. He was The Boss, the CEO of a very lucrative business, and the biggest fucking deal in his world, and he conducted himself as such.

Was that why she had done what she had done? She couldn’t work it out, and she couldn’t stand not knowing why she had taken him up on his offer.

But she didn’t have the same conviction that she should regard today as a one-off as she’d had when she left him in the room to clean himself up. The allure of meeting him again had become a constant burn that grew hotter and hotter every second she spent thinking about it.

She rested her head against the sofa back and blew out a sigh. Eyes closed, she let herself slip back into that honeymoon suite. She tingled with the same anticipation she’d felt when she’d exposed that hard chest. She tasted the salt from his skin on her tongue and her mouth watered. The low timbre of his laugh penetrated her blood and made her breath quicken.

She squeezed her fingers around the phone and clamped her knees together. The thought of him turned her on so much that she couldn’t imagine not getting another fix, and soon.

It’s only for another month and change, she reasoned as she tapped the screen so that the keyboard popped up.

A ticklish feeling raced through her, as powerful as the arousal she couldn’t and didn’t want to shake.

I like you.

His smile as he said it, the one that took over his whole face and made his eyes light up, was what made her want to take on what a select group of women had to pay for. Quinn overflowed with conceit, but was … pleasant, and she liked him right back.

It was foolish, but Molly couldn’t help but feel that his interest was genuine. Sure, she’d agreed to give him until the new year, and his apparent eagerness to further their arrangement could have been self-preservation, but that option didn’t feel right to her.

Maybe it was just wishful thinking from a woman who hadn’t had a lover, or even a truly good friend, in a long time, but she felt that something had truly sparked between them, and she was sure she wasn’t mistaken.

The screen on her phone faded to black, and Molly found herself thinking about his hands and those scars that formed a crosshatch over his knuckles.

They were far more proof of his manhood than his abilities in bed. Those scars, and the man they made him, were why she had been compelled to stay when she could have walked away. They no longer hinted at something rough and bestial, but perhaps something more complex than just a man whose game was seduction.

As she tapped the phone and roused it again, she groaned.

The smart thing to do was to forget that today ever happened, to turn around and look away when he came into the hotel, and teach herself to think about this afternoon’s episode as something to cringe over during daylight and relive in a fever when night fell. The smart thing to do was to go back to her grey life and forget about that spot of colour she’d found in the honeymoon suite.

But not today, she thought, and began to type.

About that ‘or something’ …




Chapter Three (#ulink_74329857-c9ad-599e-896d-8ab662219ac4)


‘Would you please call up to room 720 and let them know their guest is waiting for them in the lounge?’ he asked.

Molly minimised the window on her computer screen and picked up the phone to her right. She didn’t dial out. She just cradled the receiver against her ear and watched the front desk from the corner of her eye.

‘Yes, sir – oh, one moment. I have a key card for you. You can go right up.’

The people-shapes beyond her office stood still, and try as she might she couldn’t bear not to look. She bit down on her smile and swivelled just a little in her seat.

What a look that is. You’ve gone and thrown him off his groove, haven’t you, Moll?

He looked slightly annoyed at the clerk as he took the card, but gave a cordial nod and thanked her. As he turned, his gaze connected with Molly’s, and she couldn’t help flashing him a smile before she turned back to her computer.

Ten minutes later, she locked her office door behind her and wished the clerk good night. She stopped into the ladies’ room to freshen her lipstick and do a quick wardrobe change, and then headed for the elevator. Once she stepped off the car, she glanced down the corridor to the double doors that opened onto the indoor walkway leading to the parking garage. Instead of her usual route, Molly turned in the other direction.

She had picked the third floor so she could make an easy escape. If security noticed she had left her car overnight, they would just assume that it was one of her rare evenings out with friends and that she was taking a taxi home. She’d already collected her overnight bag from the trunk and left it in the room, and now she was ready to lock herself in with him for the night.

Using her master key card, she once more let herself into the honeymoon suite. It was easy to block off the same room at this time of year. Outside the warm weather months, the room was typically only let out for anniversaries. When no one had claimed it by suppertime, she’d simply discounted it and sold the room to a Miss Plum, who paid cash and whom Molly checked in herself.

Shrugging out of her coat in the narrow corridor flanked by the closet and the bathroom, ‘Miss Plum’ cocked her head but couldn’t see him, just his coat draped over the edge of the sofa and his scarf tossed on top of it. There was no noise other than the whisper of her own clothes, and she wondered if he had stepped out for a moment.

Not quite, she discovered as she stepped into the room. The light in the bedroom was on behind him. He sat on the end of the bed, bent forward with his forearms across his thighs. His suit jacket and tie were slung on the accent chair in the far corner. He had unbuttoned and rolled up his sleeves, and it was clear to Molly that he had discarded the character in which he’d entered the hotel. This man was someone altogether different, someone who wanted his rough edges to be seen as soon as she walked in.

One crook of his finger beckoning her, and he might as well have been twitching the tip against her clit. She walked towards him – it seemed to take ages – and stopped on the threshold of the bedroom.

Quinn moved an arm to prop his chin on his hand. He raised his brows, and wiggled his finger again.

Losing the fight with that urge to smile, she moved forward with a grin. She had taken two steps when he raised his hand and made a twirling motion.

As soon as her back was to him he grabbed the bottom of her skirt and drew it up to her ass on one side. She thought she caught the tremble of laughter in the air as he regarded what was underneath, but when she glanced down on him he looked as serious as ever.

After just a moment he tugged the skirt back down, then gave her a little nudge.

‘Back in the doorway and strip.’

‘Hello to you, too.’

This time the laughter was unmistakable, and the smile remained once she turned in the doorway. She unbuttoned her jacket and split it open, then planted her hands on her hips.

‘I do hope you’re going to reciprocate,’ she said.

When he didn’t break his silence, Molly let out an impatient little sigh that burned in her throat but fizzled giddily on her tongue. She knew he’d been reading her again, that he had probably started the second she came into view as he approached the front desk, only this time he was doing so in silence.

So far.

She peeled off the jacket and tossed it to the floor, then plucked the buttons of her blouse. He’d already had a preview, and anticipation showed on his face as she opened the shirt. He didn’t move, not when the shirt joined the jacket on the floor, and not when she turned and unzipped her skirt.

Nearly naked now, she turned back and resumed her pose with her hands on her hips.

He lowered his gaze to her legs. ‘You weren’t wearing those when I came into the hotel tonight.’

‘The nudes are stuffed in my purse. I thought the white stockings were a much better match.’

‘I agree,’ he said, then got to his feet.

She kept her pose in spite of the quiver running up her spine as he circled her. She could feel the appreciation beaming out of him, and lost any worry she’d had about going too over the top with the saucy little number.

‘Is this new?’

‘The stockings are. The rest has been … away. I thought today would be a good time to bring it out of hibernation.’

The truth was that she had almost burned the scanty merry widow when she’d come across it a few months ago. She’d been a little drunk and feeling sorry for herself, and at the time a ritualistic barbecue in the backyard had seemed like a tremendous idea. Either she’d changed her mind or passed out before she could follow through, because in the morning she found it rumpled on the floor. She’d put it back in the dresser where she had found it, and it had been forgotten until that morning.

‘You should wear something like this all the time,’ he said, and gave the garter a little tug. ‘I can’t tell in the orange light: is it silver?’

‘Lavender.’

‘Like something a virgin would wear on her wedding night. Not a good girl, mind you; not the type who is all hands-off until she has a ring on her finger, but the type who has been pretty free with the blowjobs and a bit of fingering but enjoys the chase too much to give it all up until she knows it’s worth it.’

‘If you think I’m a virgin, Quinn, I think you need your head examined.’

‘But you want to give the same impression. You wore this so you could be a total prick-tease to me.’

He came around, right in front of her, and tilted her chin up to look at him. She managed to maintain her gaze for about thirty tense seconds before lowering her lashes.

‘Don’t worry, Molly. You’ll have your chance to tease my cock all you want once I’m done with you.’ He slipped both his large, warm hands round her face and leaned close. ‘I can be a tease, too, can’t I?’

He left her light-headed with wanting to be kissed, and returned to the bed.

‘You remind me of someone, you know. About ten years ago there was a woman in Vancouver who would dress like that. She was a little older than you, single and successful, renowned for being a perfectionist in her field. She was a perfectionist in every aspect. If you couldn’t do it right the first time, you were out on your arse.’

She watched him finger the cuffs he’d made at his elbows and itched to straddle him, to unzip him and ease down on that deliciously thick cock. She didn’t want to hear about some other woman. She wanted his mind on her, Molly Archer, and she wanted his thoughts to go no further than stretching her wide as he went balls deep.

‘The first time she contacted me was by email. She was very businesslike in the way she explained what she expected from me. It seemed so deranged that I almost turned her down, but I wanted the money so I upped my price. I was impressed by how thorough she was with her kink, and how in control of it she was.’

‘What did she do? Tie you up and peg you?’

He gave his head a shake, then leaned back, hands flat on the bed behind him. ‘I met her at her condo. She was wearing something like what you’re wearing, all white frills and satin. She was nervous at first. Not afraid, but anxious that I might disappoint her. Finally, she talked herself into trusting me, and then she took me to the bedroom. Shall I go on?’

Her impatience was bubbling over, but there was something hypnotic about his storyteller’s voice. She nodded and was met with a smile. He beckoned her again and, once she was before him, he gestured at the floor.

‘You want me on my knees?’

‘Don’t get too excited. I’ll tell you why once you’re down there.’

Down she went and sat back on her calves, when what she really wanted was to pull out his cock and disturb his unflappability.

He leaned forward and went on. ‘First, she wanted me to give her a stern talking-to. She wanted me to grill her about her business dealings, her personal life, how often she cancels her appointments with her personal trainer, how much of a credit-card balance she keeps, and so on. Once her failings were laid out before her, it was time to get physical.’ He leaned forward and cocked his head. ‘Have you ever had a good hard spanking, Molly Archer?’

She shook her head. She would have answered, but her tongue had gone useless on her while her body was struck with a charge.

A good hard spanking? Not only had she never had one, but she’d never really wanted one. She’d always found the fantasy off-putting, but as soon as the question had left Quinn’s mouth she ached to reach down and give herself a bit of a rub.

He looked down at her pretty white stockings. ‘I think we’ll skip the boring parts. If you want to moan about your perceived faults, you can get yourself a therapist. Right now, I’m more interested in seeing how wet a few smacks will make your pussy. Up.’

He held out his hand. It was such a gentlemanly gesture and she got to her feet as daintily as she could. He held on even after she draped herself over his lap, and something told her that he wouldn’t let go even while he was bringing a stinging palm down on her cheeks.

‘If we’re going to do this, then we’ll do it right,’ he said, and with his other hand he dragged her panties down just below her buttocks.

‘Did you use your hand with her?’ she asked, her voice shaking past her tonsils.

‘No, she had a leather paddle. Even if I had known this would be what we’d be getting up to tonight, I wouldn’t have brought anything with me. I like the idea of feeling the same sting in my hand that I’m giving to you on your arse.’

‘Hurts me more than it hurts you sort of thing?’

‘No, this won’t hurt me a bit.’

He gave her three hard smacks and Molly thought she took them pretty well. Then again, it could have been the shock of being a thirty-year-old woman and getting her ass spanked for the first time since she was five. She gripped his hand and held her breath, and when the prickly heat began to spread she let the air out in a whistle, then snuffled a laugh as the absurdity of it returned to her.

‘Go on,’ he said. ‘Get out the giggles now. Once you really start to feel it, you won’t feel like laughing.’

‘Should I have a word?’ she asked quickly as she felt his movement, raising his hand over the other cheek.

‘What?’

‘A safe-word, isn’t it?’

He laughed so heartily that she was jostled on his lap, and reached down to grab his leg to keep her balance.

‘Stop being such a drama queen. It’s not like I’m caning you. When I think you’ve had enough, I’ll stop.’ Molly started to protest, but Quinn gave her a bit of a shake. ‘For God’s sake, forget whatever garbage you’ve picked up online. Ready? No? Still talking? Too bad, then.’

He brought his hand down on the other cheek, three times, and let his hand rest on the hot flesh. She was overcome with the need to move, but that hand seemed to demand stillness, and so she compensated by curling her toes until her shoes dropped off.

‘This is usually the part where she’d beg me to stop and tell me she won’t be a bad girl ever again, and I’d tell her I don’t believe her and keep going. I don’t think that would work with you, though. You came here dressed like that so you want to be the bad girl, and even if I did think I could get an apology out of you, I wouldn’t be able to accept it without laughing myself sick.’

‘If you keep it up, I’m going to turn you over and give you a crack on the arse.’

‘That’s adorable,’ he said, and shoved her panties to her knees. ‘Go on, shake them off.’

She discarded them, then squeaked as he grabbed her and dragged her with him while he scooted further back on the bed.

Arms and legs now supported by the mattress, she pushed up onto her hands in a yoga-like pose and twisted her head around. ‘Are you done?’

‘Not even close, and stop trying to push my buttons. You can’t. I’m better at this than you are.’

He added an exclamation point to his statement with his palm on the fleshiest part of her ass. This one packed a wallop that zinged in both directions, rattling her brains and giving her an itch on the bottom of her feet at the same time.

She had to take a moment to catch her breath. Her heart beat so fast her head floated. She sank down, pressed her head against the mattress and sought his hand once more. She didn’t try to speak again until her palm was pressed against his.

‘You’ve got a big mouth.’

‘And you’ve got a red arse. Bend your knees and lift up a little.’

She obliged with a happy little wiggle as he skimmed his other hand across the backs of her thighs.

‘Keep talking. I like your big mouth.’

‘Funny you should say that. I don’t talk half as much with anyone else as I do with you. I find silence is much more effective, save for the occasional dirty phrase thrown out here and there.’

His touch became light and ticklish as he moved down between her thighs. She opened up for him, and the cool air let her know just how wet she had become. The plump insides of her thighs were slick.

‘It’s because I like you,’ he went on. ‘When I like someone, I talk them to death.’

‘So this isn’t just so I’ll let you slink around the hotel?’

He said nothing. He simply drummed his fingers just above her pussy. Whether he was choosing his words or merely teasing her, she didn’t know. Either way, he answered her with a series of hard smacks.

She clenched his hand and lifted her ass as each blow shook through her. The heat was glorious and she moaned, but the sting eventually became too much. She gave a kick and called out, and for a moment she worried he wasn’t going to stop. Three more measured smacks, though, and he relented.

‘The answer to your question is no, by the way,’ he said in a melodious tone. ‘This isn’t just because of our arrangement. I like you. How many times have I said it now? I’ve lost count. And you get me hard, so I want to fuck you while I’m talking to you. For a man who gets hard for a living, that’s a bit of a novelty.’

His fingers returned between her thighs, but he didn’t tease this time. He spread her pussy lips, scissoring his fingers on both sides to give her clit a thorough rub. The instant pleasure moved everywhere, everywhere but the burning prickle on her arse. The contrast was beautiful, a flood surrounding a fire.

‘Have you – oh – have you never had anyone? Outside work, I mean.’

‘Every so often,’ he said, and then he said no more.

Or maybe he did, and his fingers just tuned her to a different station. He wasn’t being gentle with her. He worked her clit with his whole hand and let her do the talking. Word after perverted word poured out of her. She demanded and begged, cursed and crooned, until it became harder to push her words or even a moan out.

His squeeze on her hand anchored her as the intensity between her legs flared out and consumed her. She rocked on her knees in tune with the pulsations of her orgasm.

When she couldn’t hold herself up any longer she sank down and quaked as he gave her clit one last pinch before sliding his fingers along her crack.

‘Not a bad start, if you ask me,’ he said softly, and twitched the tip of his finger into the throbbing mouth. ‘Did you pay for the night?’

She made a garbled sound that he accurately took as a yes.

‘Good. I came prepared, but I get a new idea sparking in my head the longer I have you over my lap. This could take a while.’

He jostled her, but retained his grip on her hand as she struggled to get up from his lap. He moved her between his legs, uttering, ‘Careful’ as she began to wobble. She still saw stars dancing in front of her eyes as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a phone.

‘Hey, that will cost you extra,’ she said as he turned it on.

‘Don’t worry. I’m not out to make you a porn star, even if I do think that would make a great second calling for you. I just want you to see.’ He awkwardly tapped the face with his thumb, then nudged her around. ‘Look.’

She twisted her head and looked down. He had reversed the camera on the phone, so instead of seeing the blur of the carpet behind her, she found herself looking at the poppy-red spheres of her ass.

Quinn tilted the camera up, and she quickly turned her head. ‘I don’t want to look at my face, for God’s sake.’

‘You should. Your other cheeks are just as red. You’re adorable.’

She had to hide her smirk from him. It came from the compliment, and she didn’t quite know what to do with it. He caught it, though, and dropped his phone on the bed beside him. His fingers turned into little monsters, tickling her into submission until she was perched on his thighs, her sore ass blessedly clear of any pressure.

‘I don’t believe you’ve never done that before,’ he said. They were eye-to-eye, and there was no hiding that quirk of a smile now. ‘I did, until you started to giggle while I was really giving it to you. I don’t think I’ve ever heard such happy sounds before.’

‘I did not giggle,’ she said, but she couldn’t be too sure. When those hot smacks were splatting all over her cheeks, her head had been a big fizzy ball. He could have recited ‘The Cremation of Sam McGee’ the whole time and she wouldn’t have had a clue.

‘You are very giggly.’ He spoke softer now while he pushed his fingers into the swell of her hips. ‘I don’t hear laughter like that enough.’

‘I don’t laugh often,’ she whispered, running her hands up to his neck. Her cheeks continued to burn as she focused on unbuttoning him down to the naval. Once she revealed that chest speckled with ginger hairs, she mustered up her confidence to meet his gaze.

She doubted he had looked away from her face the entire time she was undressing him. He seemed lost.

In her? No, he was surely just reading her again.

‘Did you like it?’ she asked as she slipped her fingers beneath his collar. ‘Or did you do it because you knew I’d like it?’

He pushed up enough for her to feel the hard bulge. ‘I liked it.’

Still too sensitive, she rose up on her knees and found she enjoyed looking down on him. With his head tilted back and his neck exposed, he seemed vulnerable and younger than his years.

‘Though “liked” is the wrong word. It’s past tense, and I’m just getting started. I’m just giving you a bit of a breather.’

With that, he gave her another smack. Molly yelped and pushed, and with a surprised oomph he went on his back.

She didn’t try to hide her grin now. ‘Now who has the upper ha– Ouch!’

This slap she returned with one of her own, a warning tap on his cheek. For a moment there was something animalistic in his expression. It touched her in some primal place so deep and dormant she hadn’t realised it was there. Suddenly ravenous, she leaned over him and pressed her forehead to his.

‘Kiss me,’ she whispered, and took his mouth before he could speak.

Lips and tongues collided, chaotic at first, but once he had cupped her head firmly in his hands his silken tongue took possession. Then the firm hands stroked down, raising gooseflesh on her shoulders as he went for the thin straps.

He fucked her mouth, twisting his head back and forth while his tongue bullied hers to remain compliant. Each time she tried to overtake him she failed, and she became more disoriented as he loosened the flimsy straps.

Once he had succeeded in dragging the front of her bodice down, he released her and turned ferocious. Molly gasped as he grasped her arse in two handfuls, but the pain had dulled. He ordered her body up over his and closed his lips around her nipple.

The tight pinch of his teeth offered only a brief release from the ache his suckling mouth invoked.

‘Again,’ she whimpered, driven to insanity by her need for some sort of gratification. ‘Spank me again.’

Laughter sputtered wet on her breast and he dropped his head back for a moment. ‘If you want some of the rough stuff, I can give it to you. I know from experience how thick these walls are.’

He ran his hand over her ass as he took her nipple into his mouth once more. Anticipation ran toxic in her veins. She lifted her ass, but only got the lightest of taps in return.

‘Do it,’ she urged in a hiss, and pushed up out of his mouth’s wet grasp. ‘Just three. Give me just three hard ones.’

He raised his brows slightly, unaffected by the way she was turning into some starved feline thing on top of him. He gave not even a blink as she ground against his groin, no doubt leaving a stain on those expensive trousers.

‘Tell you what,’ he said slyly. ‘I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll give you one good crack on the ass if you let me do something really dirty to you.’

‘I want three,’ she demanded. ‘Just three and you can do whatever you want with me.’

‘Even …’

He drummed his fingers down her ass, down between her pussy lips, then drew the moisture upward.

‘Yes?’ he asked as the tip of his finger met his mark. ‘No?’

She let him find out for himself, arching in invitation he smeared her juices around the tight opening.

‘Yes,’ he whispered, and his hand fell away. ‘Get up. Get on your knees. Get your ass up again.’

She dismounted and scuttled into position while he bounced on his behind to the edge of the bed.

‘Good girl – ass up.’

She twisted her head to one side. He stood at her hip, hands on his waist: a rumpled, wrinkled picture of masculinity.

‘I can say it in a different tone, if it helps.’

‘You’re lucky I’m so obliging, otherwise you’d get another smack on the mouth.’

‘You’re lucky I’m not easily bored by empty threats. Otherwise I’d put you on your knees and fuck your mouth again.’

The excitement that ran through her wasn’t sparked by the authority of what he said, but by the playfulness behind it. She already liked the words; now she was growing fond of the tune.

He sauntered out of view, and the bed sagged as he knelt behind her. Those adept fingers spread open the mouth of her sex.

‘What a lovely mess I’ve made,’ he said, strumming his finger through the dripping folds. ‘Look over there, next to the bed. You missed it when you first came in, you were so wound up in showing off. What do you think it is? Oh, Molly, the possibilities …’

True, she had missed the little black bag when she first came into the room. It was the type you got at posh boutiques that folded skimpy lingerie in tissue paper.

But what was inside didn’t come from Victoria’s Secret. He’d spelled it out for her, and the erratic wave in her head broadcast those filthy possibilities.

‘Do you do this for all of your –’ clients? employers? ‘– friends?’

‘My friends have to bring their own playthings. For you, well, I suppose I could have brought flowers, but if I want to woo a woman who can suck a cock like you can, I have to do better than roses.’

Molly curled her fingers into her palm and smiled into the bedding. It was such a crass thing to say, especially since he was avidly fingering her wet gash, but beneath it all was such sweet sentiment.

‘I like you, too,’ she murmured, and whimpered as the tip of his tongue unravelled her.

Lick after lick fattened her clit while he rubbed her inside, creating a perfect storm. She could have entertained that beautiful tongue between her legs until she just melted into the mattress, but this was only a warm-up before he retreated. He appeared a moment later next to his bag of tricks.

‘You can say no to anything,’ he told her as he reached into the bag.

‘I trust you,’ she whispered, and marvelled that she truly meant it.

Here was a man who took money in exchange for things she only fantasised about, and here he was, in his words, wooing her. Because he liked her.

‘Like’ was such a frank emotion, but it was the one that reached the deepest. In her whole life, the word ‘love’ had been bandied about when convenient – ex-boyfriends and an ex-husband had used them with varying degrees of honesty, but ‘like’ held so much more.

‘Like’ could be tender and perverted all at once, which summed up Quinn most beautifully.

The first item he produced was a common thing, a bottle of lubricant he could have picked up at the grocery store. As wet as she was, he wouldn’t have needed it if he was merely after the slippery shelter of her cunt. It was the second thing he revealed to her that gave point to the first: a fat little anal plug made of green glass.

‘Still trust me?’ he asked, rolling the toy between his fingers so that it caught the light.

‘What else do you have?’ she whispered, and squeezed her thighs together in anticipation as he set the plug on the table beside the lube.

The next was a basic vibrator, an economical little phallus, unlike the wand she kept tucked in her nightstand. For hers, she had a multitude of sleeves and attachments, but in those capable hands she imagined his ten-dollar vibe would make her beg for more.

‘Ass up,’ he repeated.

She hadn’t realised that she had drooped, but at his word she thrust her ass up to him.

‘Are you saving those three smacks?’

His only response was to jerkily unleash his cock, an impressive column that strained away from heavy balls towards his hairy belly. A quick hand waved across the tip like that of a magician trying to glamour his audience, and he showed her his wet palm before working the tip in a way only a man could handle his own cock.

‘Ass. Up.’

As she extended her invitation, he picked up the lube and tossed it onto the bed, then brandished the plug in his free hand.

‘A little too eager, aren’t we?’ he asked, reviving the heat of her ass with a look she felt. ‘When I go home I’m getting on my fucking knees and praying for good health to the president of Barry REIT for putting you in this position in the first place.’

‘I’m pretty sure they’d frown on this sort of thing. They’ve contributed quite a bit to the Conservative cause, and we all know how those people feel about anal sex.’

‘Until they have a spectacular ass like yours offered up.’ He ran his hands over the swell of her buttocks. ‘Do you want your smacks before or after you take what I’ve got for you?’

‘Give me the plug first,’ she begged, peering to one side to find him. It was no use. He was positioned behind her, out of sight.

‘This isn’t a first for you, then?’

‘God, no, but it has been a long time.’

She sucked in a deep breath, unsure whether she should be entirely truthful with him. She’d probably never shut him up if she said it. Still, she was compelled by his fingers parting her cheeks and the cool dollop of lube on her asshole.

‘And you’re very big,’ she finished.

‘I am big, aren’t I?’ he said, and gave her the tapered tip of the plug. ‘How long has it been?’

‘Two years,’ she confessed, and gripped the bedding as he gave her a little more.

‘Do you think you can take me?’

Molly laughed, then gave him the condensed version of her little secret. After some coaxing without success, she’d bought what was called a ‘starter kit’ on the Internet and convinced Aaron to use the smallest size on her. As for actual anal sex, they had never attempted it, so technically it was closer to eight years since she’d last participated in the real thing.

‘What are you doing?’ He stopped and withdrew the plug. ‘Too much?’

Much like the alleged giggling while being spanked, she had developed a habit of humming while being penetrated. It had started when she’d learned how to insert the plug herself, once Aaron got squeamish and gave it up.

‘It’s just a habit. I can’t help it and I don’t know when I’m doing it.’ She whipped her head around. ‘Are you going to keep going or not?’

‘Was that from Mary Poppins?’

‘Yes.’

‘When they’re all dancing on the rooftops, right? Do you take requests?’

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake!’

She thrust her ass up, and squealed with the sudden hard crack on her ass.

‘You should be nicer to me, Molly. I’m about to fuck you through that wall over there.’

Once more he probed her with the end of the plug, and once more she resumed her humming, cheerfully at first, but as the base widened and stretched, and she was seized by the usual worry that she wouldn’t be able to take it, she began to sing frantically under her breath.

The last of the plug went in, and the discomfort turned into the awareness of being stuffed. She let out a puff of air and squashed her cheek into the pillow.

Quinn returned to the bedside table. ‘Have you ever done a threesome?’

‘Didn’t you ask me that the last time?’

‘The last time I asked if you wanted one. Now I’m asking if you’ve ever had one.’

‘Twice,’ she admitted, and as she watched him pull a package of batteries from the bag she started to feel restless. She was good and corked, but she wasn’t filled. The vibrator was uninspiring. Maybe if he had brought her a rabbit or something else with substance … something she could use on herself while she sucked on him again.

‘Two men or a man and another woman?’

‘Two men, both times.’

‘And …’

She pushed up onto her forearms and looked up at him. ‘You want details?’

‘Just specifics.’ He twisted the end of the vibrator back on and set it next to the pillow above her head. He took his cock in hand again and leaned against the table. ‘Did you fuck them one at a time or together?’

‘I sucked one off while the other fucked me,’ she said, and reached for the vibrator. ‘That was the first time, and it wasn’t planned. Once we came, we were all too shocked to do anything more.’

‘And the second time?’ He released his cock and reached behind him for the condom box.

‘The second time was planned, and the things we wanted to do were planned. It started off with a hand job for one in the car, a blowjob for the other once we were back at the house. Then they went down on me together.’ She twisted the end of the vibrator back and forth, testing the strength of its oscillations. ‘Two tongues, many fingers, a vibrator in my pussy and a dildo in my ass. And then …’

She glanced up at him. He’d gone still, the condom in one hand and the torn wrapper in the other.

‘Don’t tell me I’ve shocked you.’

‘You have. I had convinced myself that I was the naughtiest thing you’ve done. I started to have my doubts when you didn’t flinch when I told you I wanted to fuck your ass, but I didn’t expect you to tell me you’ve been shared in bed.’ He tossed the wrapper aside and rolled the condom down his dick with a snap. ‘I don’t know when I’ve last been so turned on. You’re a woman in frilly underwear and a red ass, who hums when taking a butt plug and has a filthy history for me to mine, and I get to do whatever I want with you.’





Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Получить полную версию книги.


Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/am-hartnett/holding-my-breath/) на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.