Chapter 7 #3
He shakes his head but can’t stop the twitch of his lips. He takes off his coat and throws it carelessly onto the sofa. I lean forward and grab it.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“Examining the label. Yes, cashmere. I knew it.”
“Is there a point today where you’ll make sense? I need to make a note in my diary.”
“You’re hilarious.” I spring to my feet. “I had a bet your coat was expensive and probably sewn during the new moon by a virgin and a unicorn who never got any tea breaks.” I grin at him. “Want to see my new gaff?”
He rolls his eyes. “I do believe I might have seen it before.”
I step closer and poke him in the ribs, enjoying his surprised huff. It’s good to surprise him. I’m guessing he’s so controlled that it rarely happens. “You own the whole building, eh, Mr Moneybags?”
He catches my finger and draws me gently forward until I’m standing toe-to-toe with him, me barefoot and him in very polished shoes. “And who told you that, little nosy?”
“I have my sources.”
He hesitates and then says almost reluctantly, “Do you like the place?”
“Fucking hell, Mac, it’s amazing .”
“Please don’t call me that.” He sighs. “It’s the name of someone who might actually appreciate your company.”
I grin at him and, reaching up, I loosen his tie before pulling it slowly from his collar. “I think you like me plenty, Mac, or at least what my arse can do to your cock.” He goes still, watching me as I drop the tie to the floor, but it’s the stillness of a lion watching its prey.
It suddenly occurs to me that this is the first time I’ve taken the initiative.
All the other times he’s been in the driving seat.
I wonder if I should step back and let him take over.
Maybe he wouldn’t like it any other way.
But a glance down at the erection tenting his trousers tells me to dismiss that idea.
I quickly scramble out of my clothes, my reward being his sharp intake of air.
For a second, I think he’s going to drag me close, but he remains still even as I smile up at him and start to unbutton his shirt.
The material parts, showing his smooth, broad chest, and I slide my hands down his ribs, enjoying the feel of his hot, silky skin.
I pause when I reach his belt. “Yes?” I ask, and I’m startled at the hoarseness in my voice. My cock is already stiff and throbbing. Something about the way he stands still as I run the show is incredibly hot.
He raises one sardonic eyebrow. “Why are you asking me? You seem to be in charge.”
I shrug. “I like that idea.”
“God help us all.”
I snort and undo the buckle on his belt. I slide it free from his trousers and give the leather a crack. “Shit!” I flinch when it hits my fingers. “That fucking hurt.”
He makes a sound that is very much a snort, and I mock-frown at him. “Don’t mock me. I’ve hurt my finger.”
“Show me,” he says, and the mood abruptly changes. His voice is dark and deep and an incitement to sin, so I step closer and raise my finger to his lips, gasping as he takes it into his mouth and starts to suck. His mouth is hot and wet.
“Shit. It’s like my dick is connected to my finger,” I say in a breathy voice.
He lets my finger go. “What a stunning and erotic image.”
“I can’t help it. Everything you do is hot.” The usual cynical look comes over his face, and I roll my eyes. “It’s the truth. Why won’t you believe me?”
“Maybe because I’m paying you to be here. And I think you’re too smart not to pretend you appreciate me.”
The sudden jibe and dismissive tone of voice chills the heat that’s been building.
It’s not that it isn’t true. It’s just that when we’re together, there’s no way I can pretend he’s not the hottest man I’ve ever been with, that the sex we have isn’t the best thing I’ve ever felt.
And, of course, now I have to ask myself if he’s been pretending to behave like my arse, in particular, is the only one he’s ravenous for.
He sighs, and my eyes fly to his. “That was uncalled for,” he says softly. “Forgive me.”
I cock my head. “Was that… was that actually an apology?”
“No,” he snaps.
I grab his arm as he moves away, pulling him back to me. Then I step closer, winding my arms around his narrow waist. “No, that’s right. It was actually a command. Well, I can’t say I’m surprised.”
“If you were surprised, would you stop talking?”
I grin. “No.”
“That’s not exactly shocking.”
He cups my shoulders, pulling me even closer, and I groan as my cock nudges his.
He lowers his hands and cups my arse, encouraging me to grind against him as he kisses me.
The kiss is like fire from the start, our tongues duelling as we struggle to keep our mouths connected.
I snuggle closer, prolonging the kiss and writhing as my cock paints stripes on his trousers.
He pulls away and says something, but I don’t register what it is.
“What?” I say pouting.
He looks a little wild, his chest rising and falling quickly and his cock straining against his trousers.
He licks his lips, dragging his eyes from where they’re devouring me. “I need to discuss something with you.”
“ Now ?”
My incredulity seems to amuse him and some of his usual control settles back on his shoulders. “I’d like to discuss the option of going without condoms.”
Oh. This is so far from anything that I was imagining that my jaw drops.
He shifts his weight. “Have you been stricken dumb? What a joyful day,” he snaps.
“No. I mean, yes. Well, a bit.”
“Oh dear. It’s just babbling incoherence, then.”
I laugh and then lean against the back of the sofa. “So, no condoms?”
“Yes. I believe you’re tested regularly, as am I.”
“Of course. That’s the rule, isn’t it? I have your results on my phone next to your love notes and marriage proposals.” He rolls his eyes, and I grin at him. “Besides, I’ve only been with you since we met.”
A cynical look crosses his face, but it’s gone almost as soon as I saw it. “You’ll forgive me, but I don’t trust anyone that easily,” he says grimly.
That stings. I always tell the truth, but I dismiss my instinctive reaction because he’s right not to trust people in this situation.
“How do you usually handle this conversation with the other men from the club?”
He stares at me, reluctance written all over his face. “It’s never been addressed with anyone else,” he says grudgingly.
Something like delight rushes through me.
It must show because he holds up his hand and says, “No to whatever ridiculous idea is filling your head this time.”
“ This time?”
“I don’t want a dissertation on motives,” he says briskly. “Just whether you’re willing. I will, of course, pay extra for the privilege.”
“ What ?”
“Of course. It’s customary, I believe.”
“Not in my world.” I shake my head. “You already pay me an obscene amount of money, and now you’re keeping me in a beautiful flat. Of course, you won’t be paying me extra. The thought,” I scoff.
His eyebrow rises. “You’re saying you don’t want extra money?” he says slowly.
“Honestly, I’d have done you bareback for free.”
He groans. “Haven’t we discussed these foolish offers of yours? You need to be savvier in the future if you enter another arrangement.”
Another arrangement. He carries on talking, but his words become background noise. Would I ever have this “arrangement” with anyone else in the future? Would I carry on being a prostitute after Cormac is done with me?
I can’t imagine it. I wouldn’t need the money, not with my spectacularly replenished bank account. And I certainly wouldn’t do this with any other man. In fact, the idea sends a deep shudder from my spine to my toes.
Oh shit. I have feelings for Cormac, don’t I? I’m here in this flat, listening to him hand down unwanted and utterly arrogant advice, because I genuinely like him, and I want to know him better. Not just better—no, I’m obsessed enough to want to know everything.
I choke down a laugh when I imagine his face if I told him all this. If I badgered him with the personal questions I’m dying to ask. What was your childhood like, Mac? What’s your favourite breakfast cereal?
“Hello. Earth to Wes. Why do you have that smirk on your face?”
I snap out of my thoughts. “Eh?”
“Were you actually listening to me?” For some reason, he seems amused at the idea that I wasn’t.
I nod. “Of course. I always listen to unsolicited advice. So, we’re agreed on no condoms and no extra money?” I clap my hands together. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
“Please stop talking about sex as if we’re running away with the circus.”
“Well, you’d definitely be the big top.”
He eyes me, and his customary control is back in full force. I know I won’t be running the show now. Should I be disappointed? Definitely not, because when he’s in control, good things happen. Very good things.
He starts to remove his own clothes, and unlike me, he takes the time to lay them over the back of the sofa. With anyone else, I might joke about their neatness, but there’s something about Mac’s composure during sex that’s very erotic.
“Go and sit in that chair,” he commands.
I follow his gaze. There’s a big armchair upholstered in blue cotton that’s angled so the occupant can look out over the park. “You want me to sit in it naked ?” I say, slightly scandalised. “There’s a block of flats over there and anyone can see in.”
His eyebrow rises. “Are you disobeying me?”
My cock twitches at that stern tone of voice and Mac can immediately see how much I like it.
He waits for an answer with his arms folded over his chest. Being completely starkers doesn’t affect his confidence in the slightest.
“Okay.” I amble over to the chair and sit down on it, unsurprised when the luxurious fabric feels soft against my skin. I cross my legs, very aware of the window in front of me.
“Legs open,” he snaps.
“ Really ?”
His lip twitches. “No, I’m just saying it to hear the sound of my own voice.”