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If I say it aloud, she’ll ask me to. I can still see the raw desire on her face, and it’s all I can do not to say yes to what she offered me weeks ago, to take her out to my waiting car and back to my apartment, and keep her there in my bed until we’re both sated.
It could be forever, before that happens.
Every thought in my head is insanity. Her hand around my cock feels like warm silk. And for the first time in my life, I find myself completely in a woman’s thrall.
“Tell me you don’t want me now, Lorenzo,” Mila whispers, and even if I could make myself say it aloud, there would be no point.
My cock stiffens, throbbing, and the orgasm hits me like a fucking train.
The groan that spills out of my lips is raw, primal, the sound tearing the air between us as my hips arch upwards and my cum spurts onto Mila’s skin, marking her belly, up to her breasts, pale streaks across her paler flesh. The sight of it intensifies my orgasm, sends more cum arcing from my throbbing cock, and I feel my nails bite into my palms as I growl with pleasure, seeing my cum painted across her skin. Another spurt, and another, more cum than I think I’ve ever seen, as she keeps stroking me.
A last bit of cum slips from my cockhead, spilling onto the space between her thumb and forefinger. Slowly and deliberately, Mila lifts her hand to her lips, and licks it off.
My cock, which had been considering softening, stiffens again.
For a brief second, my control nearly snaps. The sight of my cum on her tongue, lapped up from her fingers, almost undoes me. It’s only the room coming back into focus, the reminder of where we are, that stops me from throwing her onto the couch and fucking her senseless.
The music has stopped. Outside the room, I can hear the sounds of the club. I have a feeling that we might have already overstayed the time that Mila should have me back here.
“Mila.” My voice sounds raspy and hoarse.
She blinks, looking at me. She seems to realize, then, that she’s stopped dancing. That she’s sitting on my lap, her hand at her lips, my cock finally, blessedly softening against my trousers.
“I—” She licks her lips, and I breathe in sharply, wondering if she still tastes my cum on her tongue.
“This was a mistake, Mila,” I tell her as gently as I can. “This can’t happen again.”
Her face shutters in an instant. She moves away from me, standing up, her posture stiff as a china doll. “You could have said that before I jerked you off.” She turns away, her arms wrapping around her waist, and my heart sinks.
This is an impossible situation. It has been since the moment she walked into my office. And it’s only becoming more complicated by the minute.
I quickly tuck myself away and zip up my trousers, standing up. The pleasant afterglow of my orgasm fades as I see the expression on her face.
“You work for me, Mila.” I step closer to her, breaking the rule against touching to put my hand on her waist. With the moment between us gone, there’s no chance of my control breaking and me fucking her now—but the warm softness of her bare skin against my palm still makes me ache.
I want so much more from her than this. And it’s an impossibility.
I could keep her safe. I could keep everything that matters to her safe.
But would she want me to?
“I shouldn’t have let it go this far.” The words come out, rote, the platitudes that I’m supposed to say. It sounds empty and hollow even to my own ears.
“Then you should leave.” She moves away from my touch, and the lack of her warmth against my hand feels like a loss.
“I meant it when I said I was making you an offer, Mila. No sex. Just my patronage. You don’t need to do anything at all. You can live your life as normal, and the things you need will be taken care of.”
At last, she turns to face me fully. But the look on her face is one of blank disbelief.
“You want me to believe that you’d take care of me for nothing.” She shakes her head, slow and certain. “I know you’re trying to be some kind of upstanding man in all of this, Lorenzo, and it’s impressive. It really is. But I don’t believe that. I can’t. Because what happens when I do? I’ll take what you offer, and take, and take, and get complacent in the taking. I’ll really start to believe that something can come for free, that you’ll give me all of this simply because you can. And then, one day, you’ll change your mind, and you’ll demand your due. And it will shatter me, because I will have come to trust that will never happen.”
The words come out in a rush, and when the last one falls from her lips, Mila stands in front of me, trembling. Her arms are still wrapped tightly around herself, and I find myself wishing there was a robe to put around her, or that I had a coat to offer her. I didn’t wear one tonight.
It occurs to me, as she backs towards the table with the tissues, that my cum is still on her skin. A moment ago, it was desperately erotic, but now I feel guilty. If we were anywhere else—in my apartment, in hers, in a hotel—I would have cleaned her up. Gotten into the shower with her. The tawdriness of the room, the cheapness of all of this, is suddenly in sharp relief, and the guilt burns in my stomach.
I let it go too far. Much too far.
“Whatever money I get from you, I want to earn,” she says stiffly. “I’ll keep selling the drugs, so long as you’ll let me, or we can enter into a different arrangement. But whatever you give me, I insist on doing something in return. I don’t want anything for free.”
