Chapter 9 #2
Tyler watched me, taking in everything. “It’s important for ye to know you’re attractive, aye? Not just for work but in your heart.”
As shallow as that might seem, I couldn’t deny it. I nodded. “Pretty much all I’ve got, hun.”
If he disagreed, he was too polite to contradict me. “And they made ye feel the opposite. Will their deaths change that?”
I considered the question but shook my head. If he killed them, that made other women safer. But it didn’t take away the sting of their taunts.
“Then what will it take?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do ye want to return to your old job?”
There was no judgement in his question. I’d never felt looked down upon by him because of what I did to get by.
“No. Not in the way I used to do it.” I didn’t think I could ever be locked in a room with a stranger again, which was a daily occurrence in my career as a sex worker.
Nor did I want to go back to the alternative work Cassie had given me.
The task of researching the men my killer friend wanted to take out had given me fresh trauma, and I’d felt such a failure for hating seeing their faces.
“Ye miss some parts of it.”
“Not much.”
“The part that made ye feel sexy.”
I’d told him as much. “I like eyes on me.”
Tyler tilted his head, and his lips curved once more. This was a purely appreciative stare.
I fished anyway. “A pity look?”
“You’re beautiful.”
Inside, I shimmered. “Stop.”
“Really?”
“No.”
“Then sit up a second.”
I did, positioning myself on my knees. Nothing seductive but on display, the fresh t-shirt I’d borrowed draped over my boobs so their shape was obvious.
“Now watch.”
I followed his direction, shivering with where he’d indicated. His lap.
“Eyes stay there. Give me permission to look at ye. I mean to take a liberty.”
“Granted,” I whispered.
Tyler grazed his heavy focus over me. I felt it almost as if he’d stroked me with velvet.
Under those grey sweats, his dick hardened until it tented the material.
My breathing stuttered. “From just a look?”
He groaned and adjusted his position. “Your voice, your laugh, your eyes, your mind, your perfect body. Given that permission and I’m there.
But it’s important for ye to know you’re in no danger from me.
Never again will any fucker touch ye without that want on your side, but I can’t hear ye talk about yourself like that and not show how wrong ye are. ”
My mouth watered, any fear now fully at bay. “What if I wanted you to touch me?”
“You’re locked in here with me.”
“So?”
“Prisoners can’t consent.”
“Then go unlock the door.”
He exhaled hard, the sound delicious.
To my surprise, I was wet. Needy. The first time I’d considered sex in months. And with the only person I’d considered giving it to for free.
“I’m…” He stopped then tried again. “I’m not trying to fuck ye. Only show the power ye wield.”
“So you aren’t making a move?”
“No. Stop looking at it like that.”
I licked my lips. “You’re underestimating my ability to seduce. I’m a pro, in at least two uses of the word.”
“And ye underestimate my ability to put ye first. Not my dick.”
I pulled my focus to his face, confused. Not only by him but by the strength of want in me. It crashed into the wall I’d constructed against ever having sex again. The fear. The resolve. Tyler wouldn’t hurt me, but sex for fun was something new.
The asshole read my mind. “When was the last time ye fucked someone purely based on attraction, not as work?”
“Never.”
He stalled, staring. “Your every sexual encounter was paid?”
Or forced. I didn’t say that little nugget out loud, only shrugged.
Tyler swore and dropped his head back to stare at the ceiling.
“Okay there, champ?” I asked.
“Trying to get hold of myself.”
“Because you want to get hold of me, the sex doll you stole from the shop.”
His dick bobbed.
I couldn’t stop a laugh of success.
Tyler gripped himself. Hard. His fingers curling around that thick length. Then he dropped contact and stood. “My reaction to ye is—”
“Fascinating.”
“Not happening.” He backed away to the darkened corridor that led off the living room. “I’m taking a shower.”
I hopped over the back of the couch. “To beat off over me?”
Tyler slammed the bathroom door. For the second time since he’d got home, the shower ran.
“In freezing cold water. Go to bed, Dixie,” he called through the plain wood door.
“Fine, but I’ll only be doing what you’re thinking about.”
At his groan of frustration, I waltzed into his room on the opposite side of the hall. Slipped off my clothes and got between his dark-grey sheets.
On my back, and surrounded by his scent, I thought about him.
Big and naked, under the water. His dick in his hand and his eyes closed.
I considered doing what I’d threatened. Running my hands over myself.
Between my legs. I liked the feeling he’d generated.
The happy, warm glow of attraction and flirtation.
All new to me as natural and not even the tiniest bit acted.
I didn’t touch myself.
I just lay there, holding on to the warmth of it, afraid to break whatever this new thing was.