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“Are you going to hold that over my head every time I don’t go along with what you want?”
“Maybe.”
“Well don’t. We agreed. It’s an even exchange.” But is it? Even as I say the words, I know they’re not true. He has the upper hand and we both know it.
He just swallows his drink and watches me looking somewhat amused.
“You had me waxed.”
The hint of a grin I glimpsed now spreads wide. “That’s right. Let’s see.”
“You have to ask me, Hawk.”
“You could have said no, Melissa,” he says, his tone matching mine.
I stop. It didn’t even occur to me to say no. That it was a choice.
“I didn’t—”
“I told you you’re not a prisoner. I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do. Would it be easier for you if I did? Is that it? Relieve you of your responsibility in this?”
“That’s not…I just didn’t realize it was a choice. The birth control shot wasn’t.”
“Who says?”
“Are you serious?”
“Get the whiskey and come here,” he says in reply, pointing to the space between his legs.
With a frustrated exhale, I go to the liquor cabinet but hesitate.
“It’s the bottle without a label.”
I pick up ornate bottle and go to him.
“Do you make it in your bathtub?” I ask, looking at it.
His face becomes serious momentarily. “I own stock in the company,” he says, signaling for me to come closer.
I do, standing between him and the coffee table. He takes the whiskey and sets it down.
“Open the robe.”
“Is this a choice too?”
He sips his drink. “Are you bored of this conversation yet? I am.” He gestures to the belt holding the robe together.
I look over his shoulder, out at the lights of the strip.
“Open it,” he orders.
Without returning my gaze to his, I undo the belt and let it fall open. I feel his hands on me, big and rough on my bare skin, his touch making my already racing heart beat faster. He opens the robe wider.
I look down at the thick dark hair on top of his head as he takes in my newly waxed pussy, only the thinnest strip of hair remaining there now. I think about yesterday or the day before or the week before. I think about how my life had been normal then. Now, this, him…it’s about as far from my normal as it can get. I’m not really even sure how I got here. Or how I said yes to this deal. Or why.
Even given the situation with Liza and Sean, wasn’t there an alternative? One that made more sense?
But then his fingers are on me again, touching the strip of hair and I can’t think about Liza or Sean or anything anymore. Especially not when he looks at me with his strange now darker eyes.
“Sit.”
I sit on the coffee table behind me.
“Lie back.”
“I’m not a dog.”
“Lie back, Melissa.”
I do as he says and immediately, I feel his knees between mine, nudging my legs apart. I startle when a moment later, cool liquid spills on me and when I look at its source, I find him pouring the contents of his whiskey glass on my sex.
He meets my eyes and his are black now, only ringed in blue and green. I can’t look away from them as liquid slides down between my lower lips, the sensation erotic.
Although maybe it’s the way he’s looking at me while doing it.
When he touches my knee, I gasp. But he just pushes it wider, eyes on me as he does. He shifts his gaze slowly down to my pussy, takes both ankles and sets my feet up on the coffee table so I’m completely open to him.
He stands, a giant looming over me. He picks up the bottle of whisky, brings it to my breasts, tilts it. It takes just a few cool drops on each nipple and they’re hard.
When he sets the bottle down, he leans over me, places his hands on the table on either side of me, bracing his weight, caging me in, and, eyes locked on mine, he licks the whiskey off one breast, then the other.
I grip the edges of the coffee table to keep from grabbing hold of him. I’m not sure if I’d push him away or pull him closer.
He straightens, crouches between my legs and slides his tongue over my belly and down to my sex. I can’t breathe. All I can do is watch him as he watches me. When I don’t close my legs, he slides his tongue through my folds, and I hear the shudder of my breath as he licks the whiskey.
As he licks me.
His breath is warm, his tongue wet and tickling my clit while the scruff of his jaw scratches me. I close my eyes, grip the edges of the table and find myself arching my back, lifting into him. Wanting him.
