Chapter 8 #2
The sound of the lock clicking had a gasp catching in my throat. My head snapped up, hair catching on my bottom lip as I found Henley blocking the door.
“This is the women’s restroom,” I informed him. He probably couldn’t read.
His eyes roamed my body, and I hated how that look alone sucked the air from my lungs. I averted my gaze, focusing on the rust around the base of the faucet.
He ignored what I’d said, taking slow, deliberate steps. His boots echoed on the scuffed linoleum, echoing through the empty bathroom as if they were mocking the pounding of my heart.
His chest pressed against my back as he caged me in, his hands resting beside both of mine on the sink. “You’re acting a little flighty, Grace.” The tone in which he said it had me guessing he wanted me to explain why.
“It’s been a long day.” Vague, but it got the job done.
I was brilliant.
He stared at me in the dirty mirror, and I stared right back. “Care to tell me what you’ve been up to that made you call this emergency meeting at some shitty diner an hour outside of town?”
I challenged him, willing him to break eye contact first. Stubbornly, neither of us looked away.
“No.”
He sucked on his teeth, the sound provocative when it shouldn’t be. “That won’t do.”
My eyes narrowed in the reflection. “Do tell, Mr. Controlling. What would you rather I tell you? That my vibrator died in the middle of my morning masturbation session, and I had to stab a guy who thought I was a hooker?”
Nothing in him moved, yet everything did. His muscles tensed, his jaw visibly clenching harder than before. His fingers dug into the sink so hard, I thought I heard the porcelain groan.
He was probably thinking, where the fuck do I start with that? And to that, I’d say, same, buddy.
“Did he touch you?”
Of course, that was the part he focused on. I’d rather tell him about my vibrator collection, and how I’d been too lazy to get up and grab another.
“I stabbed his hand for a reason.” My eyes dipped to my sheath digging into my stomach with each breath. “I would’ve left him stuck to the wall if I hadn’t used my favorite knife.”
Leaving Club Fourteen wearing this outfit was just asking for the sleazeballs not allowed inside to flock to me on the sidewalk.
Usually, they made their disgusting remarks and left things alone when they didn’t receive a response, but this one was drunk—and probably high—and clearly didn’t learn to keep his hands to himself.
Henley’s gaze dipped, roaming over every inch of me for the second time tonight. “Where?”
I rolled my eyes, but a moment later, my breath stuck in my throat as he moved in a blink. His hand wrapped around my neck, pressing me harder against him. It was a clear, unspoken threat. Why, I wasn’t sure.
Would I ever comprehend why Henley did half the shit he did?
I released the sink, steadily moving until my fingers grazed the upper part of my opposite arm.
Maybe I couldn’t say where the man had touched me, but I could show him—especially if it meant getting his hand off me, because that alone was pulling all my attention and distracting me from the main purpose of our meeting here.
His eyes blazed, but when I moved to my breast? His entire body tensed, and everywhere we made contact, it felt as if he was scorching me.
His hand tightened, cutting off my breathing entirely. I didn’t think he meant to do it intentionally as he stared at my lace bra, likely imagining the man touching me without consent.
My face burned red in the mirror, and I reached up, attempting to pry his fingers off for a moment of relief.
My touch must’ve brought him back to the present, because he immediately loosened his grip.
I sucked in air, breasts—though small—nearly spilling out from the top of my bra as I gulped.
As my lungs worked, savoring their ability to breathe, he moved my hair over my shoulder. His behavior was confusing; one second he was pestering me about my day, the next he was protective, and then he was choking me.
Talk about whiplash.
And they said women were the complicated ones?
The hand he’d used to shift my hair moved south, fingertips brushing a lingering drop of water down my cleavage.
He held me prisoner with his grip on my neck. Both of us were infatuated with where his touch moved, watching intently in the reflection.
“If you won’t tell me, I’ll have to force it out of you,” Henley hummed, mouth far too close to my ear. His breath sent goosebumps tingling down my spine.
He moved past my breasts, down my stomach. His thumb caught on my sheath as he glided over my skin.
When his fingertips ghosted the waistband of my skirt, I grabbed his wrist, halting him.
Our eyes met in the mirror once again. His showed starvation, mine greed. He wanted to feel me as much as he wanted to know what I’d done today to warrant this meeting. And as a girl with a needy pussy due to my failure of a vibrator, I wanted nothing more in this moment than to accept.
Did an orgasm really ever make a situation worse?
Probably not.
With force—because I was impatient—I plunged his hand into my skirt. His fingers easily slipped inside my panties, finding my clit with no trouble at all.
Thank God he knew what he was doing.
I held my whimper back as he started circling the bud. After forfeiting my orgasm this morning, I was all kinds of worked up. I had no doubt this would end quickly, with his clear expertise and my desire to come.
“Have you been a mess since this morning, little killer?” Henley murmured in my ear, fingers sliding through my slit to feel how wet I was.
I managed a nod despite his hand holding me in place. “It’s not because of you, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
His grip on my neck tightened in punishment, reminding me how easy it would be for him to cut off my breathing for a second time.
Why did I want him to?
Two fingers plunged inside me, and I groaned.
“What a dirty fucking slut, walking around with all this between your legs.”
My lips parted as I inadvertently leaned into him more, the back of my head resting on his shoulder. My back arched as he tilted my chin back, exposing more of me to him in the mirror.
With hooded eyes, I watched my leather jacket part, putting my bra on full display. He visually devoured me as he fucked me relentlessly with his hand.
His thumb pressed to my clit, eliciting a moan from me.
So much for holding those in.
Right as my breathing sped up and my core began to tighten, he yanked his fingers out and the pressure on my clit disappeared.
I nearly wept.
“Tell me where you went today.”
I groaned, frustrated. “You’re holding my orgasm against me?”
Dick.
His thumb dug into where my pulse fluttered, a tightening sensation blooming in my throat. “That’s right, Grace. And I know how badly you want it.” He cupped my pussy, pulling up.
Holy shit.
“Tell me,” he demanded. His voice was all gravelly and deep and delicious sounding.
I hate him.
“Let me come,” I shot back.
“Tell me,” he repeated, gritting out the words.
My clit throbbed, begging for me to give him what he wanted so I could have what I’d been craving all day.
She was a needy bitch, that clit of mine.
With a shock to my whole goddamn world, he pulled his hand back between my legs and slapped.
My knees shook as my gasp ripped through the room.
“F-fuck,” I barely managed to get out. Every nerve in my body was lit up like a firework, and I wanted him to do it again.
If it weren’t for his body behind mine, I’d be a puddle on the floor. Could one drown in their own release?
Why did I want to find out?
New kink alert.
“If I keep my mouth shut, will you do that again?” Now I really sounded like a slut.
Did I mind? No.
Call it self-awareness.
“Tell me, and I’ll do whatever you want.”
Who was needy now?
My teeth dug into the inside of my cheek as I tried not to focus on how much I liked being pressed against him. Some people could be awkward to touch, but Henley was comfy.
He pinched my clit, another reprimand for my avoidance of his question. I whimpered.
Forget comfy—the man was delectable, and the naughty things he was comfortable doing to me had me growing an addiction I had to shut down fast.
I squeezed my eyes shut. Maybe if I didn’t look at him, it would hurt less to admit it. “Club Fourteen.”
I could almost smell the confusion wafting off him. “What the fuck is Club Fourteen?”
“Th-the place I got this job.”
The silence in the room was truly deafening.
“Why.” It wasn’t a question—it was a demand.
“Because I thought going might get me the answers you want.”
“And did it?”
This was the embarrassing part.
“No.”
His fingers began making slow, gentle circles over my clit, rewarding me for the information.
“This is what happens when you go behind my back, Grace. Open your eyes.”
I obeyed, not having realized they were still squeezed shut.
“What happened?” he asked.
I swallowed, throat bobbing against his palm. “A man approached me. He clearly knew who I was. And when I asked who wants you dead, he…”
When I stopped talking, his circles ceased.
“He what?” Henley pressed, voice strained.
I cringed, hating what I had to say next. “He told me to stay a good little pet and do what I’m told.” Shame coated my voice as it quieted.
Nothing screams humiliating like admitting people view you as a fucking dog.
His thumb ran along my jaw, and I leaned into his touch, allowing my eyes to fall shut again.
His body had gone rigid with my words, unknowingly becoming the rock I needed right now.
Everything felt uncertain, too many threats being thrown around. Unfortunately, I seemed to be at the core of every single one of them.
“Good girl,” he murmured, then praised me by sliding two fingers back inside me.
I sighed blissfully, giving every inch of myself—body and mind—over to him. There was nothing else I wanted to focus on other than his fingers.
Within seconds, I couldn’t hold back any longer. The tiny gasps that left me as I came around his hand bounced off the walls of the public restroom. My orgasm hit me with a force that left my legs wobbling and my core twitching.
Finally, as I came down, I sagged against his body. He held me there, hand in my skirt and grip on my throat, as I pinched my eyes shut.
He allowed me a moment of peace in his arms, both our breaths coming heavy.
Something changed between us in that bathroom, and maybe neither of us were strong enough to admit what that was. But as the greedy people we were, we took it.