Nine
Rubin
Simone looked up at me, her face set in a familiar expression. Before, I called it serene, but now I knew what it really was.
Calculating.
Now that I’d seen it, I couldn’t unsee it. And with every second that ticked by, I saw her measuring the odds, trying to anticipate my response so she could shape her own.
I hadn’t thought it was possible to hate her more than I already did, but I’d been wrong yet again.
And yet again, she was right.
I took a step back from her, hoping the distance might help me hold the reins of control that were slipping through my fingers.
It didn’t.
Thud.
The sound rang muted and hollow through the cavernous open space, and Simone flinched and broke my gaze to chase the sound. Perhaps it was those things trying to get to us, or worse, the COs.
I kept my eyes on her.
Fuck.
I didn’t know what to do now.
I always knew what to do.
Who to pay off. Who to kill.
Except when it came to her, apparently.
What I did know down to my bones was what I wanted.
The same thing I’d wanted in all the years I’d known her.
No, that wasn’t true. Not exactly.
At first it had been curiosity, a novel reaction after so many years running the organization that no one ever surprised me. She had, so of course she’d caught my attention. Simone wasn’t beautiful, and she didn’t try to be. She didn’t throw herself at me or the men, try to curry favor.
She did her job, collected her money, and went home to her boring, safe little life where her annual trips to the Japanese bookstore in the suburbs counted as adventure.
Exactly what I’d wanted in an accountant and the reason I’d resisted that ridiculous and inexplicable pull to her that was so deep I’d deluded myself into thinking it wasn’t there.
More times than I could count, I’d ended my day standing in the shower, fisting my cock, her name on my breath.
And then later, shamefully dreaming of how it would feel to wake up next to her, touch her sleep-warm skin, smile as she prepared the perfect cup of coffee, took two sips, and let the rest go cold.
Inane bullshit that was beneath a man of my station and responsibilities.
But I’d done it nonetheless, and held those thoughts close. It was harmless.
And after…I thought of her then, too, dreamed of how she would suffer, how she would beg, how she would explain.
But I’d still thought of her…and still wanted her.
My weakness on full display.
The same weakness that allowed her in, that kept her breathing.
The weakness was going to save her now.
I let my gaze rake her body as I stilled my trembling hands, looking my fill at what I’d denied myself for so long. Something was still banging at the door, but I paid it no attention. My weakness—Simone—had cost me dearly. Why should I deny myself this small benefit?
She was rigid, almost trembling as she stared at me, so meek, so passive, such a fucking liar.
But knowing the lie didn’t make it less potent. Simone knew that too, knew that offering herself up like this was a temptation I couldn’t resist.
“Come here.”
I barely recognized my own voice, and that sound was what made Simone move without hesitation. She stopped a few inches in front of me, shifting her weight from foot to foot, though I wasn’t sure she was aware.
I wrapped my arm around her waist and slammed her body into mine, rotating my hips so that she felt what she did to me and watched her try to calculate the inches pressing against her stomach. I clumsily turned us and sat on one of the metal stools bolted to the floor and pulled Simone into my lap.
She let out an oomph, and like at the catwalk seemed surprised I so easily moved her. That was my fault too. I’d always been respectful enough not to touch Simone and had treated her gently in word and deed.
No more, though. She’d forfeited her right to my gentleness.
I gripped the outside of her thighs and pulled her legs apart and then pushed her hips down as I thrust up. Even through the thick layers that separated us, I felt her heat and reveled in the slight hitch of her breath when I anchored my hands on her hips and ground her down hard.
She was so soft, and my arms tightened around her of their own volition.
I eventually managed to loosen the hold, but my arms still tingled with the sensation of her weight.
I pushed her down as I rocked up, slamming the thick seam of her jeans against her pussy.
She was wet, and I was sure I smelled her arousal.
She breathed out hard, almost frustrated and I rocked my hips until she did it again.
I wanted to be inside of her more than I wanted my next breath. Wanted her beneath me begging for my cock and my forgiveness, something I would never, ever give.
I would be inside her soon.
For now, I snaked my hand under her shirt and down her soft stomach and popped the button on her jeans.
Kept my eyes locked on hers as I pulled the zipper down one millimeter at a time.
She watched me, too, her eyes a mysterious, heady mix of fear, need, and curiosity. Her lids lowered as I pushed my hand into her underwear.
I felt her heat for real this time, the coarse curls that covered her mound slick and sticky. Soaked. For me. I decided then that this was another thing that belonged exclusively to me. Simone’s pleasure, just like Simone’s life was mine to do with as I pleased.
And she knew it.
She’d lifted her lids slightly, but her gaze shifted down every time she rocked on my lap, chasing what was mine to give. I stilled, and a flash of confusion crossed her features.
Good.
She’d figure it out, and I would enjoy teaching her.
I rocked again then watched her throat bobble as she swallowed and pulled her closer.
My gaze followed her tongue as she swiped her full, soft-looking lips.
She was leaning forward, her breath soft against my face, her lips parted with expectation.
Her eyes were wide, and went wider still when I dragged my teeth against the skin on her neck then sucked it between my teeth and bit.
Held it for a moment then pushed her away.
“How many have fucked you?” I asked as I used two fingers to spread her plump lower lips and feel what would soon be mine.
“N-no one,” she whispered.
I let out a noncommittal noise that had nothing to do with the emotions swirling in my chest.
“You’re a liar, miu,” I whispered as I circled her entrance but didn’t enter her, wondering if she knew her hips were chasing my touch.
I traced her slick rim around and around until her wetness soaked my fingertips. I used those fingertips to paint her clit until it glistened and the sloppy wetness of my fingers playing with her sex rang out loud and obscene.
She rocked her hips, trying to bring me closer.
I caught her gaze and saw the desire in her eyes—and how much she hated that desire.
“You want me to believe you’ve been saving yourself?
” I laughed. “Even poor, ugly girls like you fuck. What else do you have to offer, or would you have me think you got that bank manager job on merit?”
Simone squirmed in my lap, but her eyes were fire. “I’m good at math.” She sounded as indignant as she could while grinding on my fingers, her anger radiating off her almost as hot as her need. I pressed in, giving her the tip of my finger.
I went just to the first knuckle, and Simone clamped down on me like a vise.
Fuck she was tight, and my cock jumped at the thought of that tightness me until she was so full of my cum it spilled out of her. How exquisite it was going to be to mold her pussy into the perfect glove for my cock. If I believed her, I’d be the first.
I stilled as I considered the pathetic lie.
Virgin?
It fit the image she tried to portray, homely, invisible, unworthy of any attention at all. The same image she’d used to bury me. Which made this lie that much more insidious. She thought she could dangle her innocence and let it unleash tenderness she’d never get from me again.
Something else she’d learn.
“Do you fuck yourself?” I whispered as I dragged my finger back, leaving her empty. Her breath stuttered at the loss, and I was sure it was the first real emotion I’d seen from her.
“Umm,” she arched her back, “sometimes.”
I huffed, then circled her clit with my knuckle. “How?”
“With my fingers. Li-like you’re doing now.”
Fuck.
I couldn’t stop the image from filling my mind like it had so many times before. Sweet Simone on her lavender bedsheets, a thousand pillows propping her up, her hand where mine was now. The reality of her was hotter, wetter, more potent than my shameful lust had ever been.
I huffed out a breath, fighting for control that again threatened to leave me.
“Do you come, miu?” I whispered. I slowed my hand until it was barely moving, waiting for her to respond.
Her eyes weren’t meek as she stared at me, but I saw what I would have once believed was embarrassment. It wasn’t though. Simone weighed her choices, trying to decide if truth or lies would better serve her. She was barely audible, but I didn’t miss the single word. “Yes.”
I touched her again, teasing her opening before circling her clit with my knuckle. Her tremble was gentle at first, just like her breath, but got stronger, heavier as I played with her clit and fed her the tip of my finger.
She was on the brink. I felt it in every flutter and clutch of her pussy around my fingertip, in the way her thighs had started to shake against mine.
Her breath came in broken little punches, and her clit had gone swollen and hard under my knuckle.
Every slow circle I dragged over it wound her tighter, wetter, closer, until she was right there—right on the edge of it.
Simone might be a liar, but her body wasn’t. I saw what was building and knew where I would take her with one more stroke.
That wouldn’t do. Her pleasure was mine. Which made it mine to deny.
I pulled my hand away and pushed her off my lap.
She landed on the floor, looking up at me with confused, furious wide eyes. I stood, letting her see the full length of my erection through the stupid jail uniform.
I glared down at her. “One day I might let you again. Now button your pants and let’s search this place.”