Chapter Twelve #2
The harsh pants of our breath mix with the soft squeak of his seat as I rock against him. I put a hand on the window to steady myself and realize there’s fog covering the glass.
For a second, he’s silent. Even though I don’t have to, I realize I’m holding back. I can’t believe I’m waiting for his permission.
Simon, what in the actual fuck are you doing right now?
“Sebastian.”
“You haven’t asked yet, Simon.”
For fuck’s sake. “Can I please get the fuck off, Sir?”
Lucky for me, he finds that funny. With an honest-to-God chuckle, he speeds up the hand gripping us both. His other hand plucks at the buttons of his shirt until his belly and chest are exposed.
“Do it. I want you to scream. I want your cum all over me.”
That’s all I need to let go. With a harsh shout, I blow all over his abs, and a few seconds later, he groans and erupts all over his hand.
Without thinking, I grab his hand and clean him off. Lapping up bodily fluids is something I would never ordinarily do with a client. I will blame the confusing and messed-up day we’ve both had.
I find myself slumped forward, practically pressing my forehead against him, knees wide. In all the crazy things I’ve ever done, I don’t think I’ve ever felt more exposed.
Our breath mingles, a mix of jagged puffs and pants, as we stare into each other’s eyes. My brain is trying to tell me how wildly dangerous this is. It’s the behavior that blurs lines with a client or, worse, allows somebody to catch feelings. Still, I can’t seem to pull away.
“I’ll be surprised if nobody calls in a noise complaint,” I say to shift the mood.
Sebastian laughs. “There’s probably nobody within a mile.”
“Let’s hope not.”
“Don’t worry.” He laughs again, but how he looks at me is oddly profound. And soft. A look that seems out of place on such a stern face.
“I’m not that worried.”
“Good. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.” Then the man who threatened to fucking have me arrested a little more than twenty-four hours ago reaches out and runs his palm up and down my neck.
I can’t suppress my shiver, but I also roll my eyes. “Yeah, okay, mister blackmail.”
He tilts his head. “If you do think of anything that might help me end things with Tony, will you let me know?”
I study his face. Or I try to. For a second, I can’t stop my gaze from drifting down to his chest, which is still heaving as he brings his breathing under control.
There’s a chance he’s playing me. That all of this incredible sex and being kind to me is a way to get me to do what he wants, and I need to shut that shit down absolutely.
The silly, childish part of me that misses things like affection and love is buying what he’s selling like a damn two-for-one sale.
“I don’t know.”
This is a shit answer, but it’s the truth. I don’t think I’d care if he were another random client. Experience has taught me that guys like him see guys like me as lesser. They can use us and show us off like purebred dogs or that expensive coffee that comes out of a cat’s asshole.
“I meant what I said before. I’d like to see you again,” he says.
There’s a pulse of anxiety in my chest. I’m confused by why he’d want that, and also a little panicked because I know part of me wants it too. “What would that look like?”
In my entire life I’ve never been on a real date. I tell myself that’s the reason for my curiosity, even knowing I’m full of shit. Brown eyes and all.
“You tell me. I’m worried that if I say I want to take you out to dinner and get to know you better, you’ll put a hole in my car door in your rush to leave.
But making an appointment to see you again through Brennan feels gross and impersonal, given what we’ve shared.
I want more than fucking, Simon. I suspect you don’t allow that with the men who pay for your time. ”
He’s not wrong. “You’re saying you want to go bowling together and share an ice cream cone?”
“If you want to. Do you like ice cream and bowling?”
“I can’t handle dairy.” Wow. Fuck. I am just sharing all of the sexy details right now, aren’t I? “You do realize I’m a whore, right? And you’re still married?”
“Are you shaming sex work?” It’s tough to tell in the dark, but he looks like he might be legitimately offended.
“Hello, it’s me, Simon. I’m a sex worker. I can say whatever I want about myself.”
“Not if it’s calling yourself ugly names, you can’t. I don’t like it.”
A laugh freezes on the way out of my mouth. “You’re serious?”
“As serious as I was when I told your friend’s asshole boyfriend that I’d knock him out.”
Which he did do, and boy, do I need to give my dick a good scolding later for trying to twitch right now. Perv.
I’m almost embarrassed by the lust that shoots through me. The reminder of that moment sets off a disturbing excitement in my stomach. “That was strangely hot, you know?”
“Simon. I’m only married for as long as it takes to settle the divorce paperwork. No, that is not my way of trying to pressure you into making a statement about Tony. I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want you to. I don’t want you to feel like you owe me anything.”
That’s…actually kind of nice.
Fuck. Part of me wants to say yes. Badly.
Nobody’s ever asked me out on a romantic date.
But I know guys who’ve done that, and in this business, relationships rarely last long.
Sebastian might be acting like he’s cool with it now, but what about when I’ve got some real estate investor paying me to bounce on his dick while I call him Daddy?
“Look, I can’t thank you enough for what you did for me today, but we both know it’s not a good idea.”
Saying the words makes my chest hurt.
Part of me hopes he’ll protest again. That he wants me enough to keep fighting for me. He doesn’t.
My libido’s pretty unhappy as well. While we’re at it, so is that sad, needy farm boy who wants to kiss Sebastian stupid for swooping in and saving my friend today. But that little pushover never knew what was good for him, which is why I can’t see Sebastian again.
“I should get your clothes back to you—” I start.
“Keep them. It’s the least I can do after damaging your suit.”
“Right.”
Well. Since I can’t think of anything else to say, I pull up my borrowed shorts and leave Sebastian with his mouth open. I do my best not to look back as I get into my Jeep and drive away.