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She chuckled, rising up on her arms, peeling her breasts from his chest. They were both sticky from hot sex. They'd been at it for hours. The dim light of early dawn was already showing at the one window in her tiny bed-sitting room. She didn't seem to care that it was a weeknight. She even thought she'd be able to convince him he had the stamina to do it all over. Maybe that's what the chocolates were about.
He was only just beginning to think straight again. They'd had a lot of fun. He'd lost count of the number of drinks they'd had. All his Motorhead stories had been told, many of his Iron Maiden too. He hadn't let her buy all the drinks though, and he'd insisted on paying for the fish and chip supper. Arguing over it had been fun. She was a playful, hands-on type. In fact it took him a while to muster a come back when she slapped his arse and told him she was calling the cards. And now she had him pinned down and at her mercy. He couldn't have been happier.
Except the reason why he was here had wriggled to the forefront of his mind, for the first time in hours. Got to get info. "What's it like, working in that swish office block?"
"It's OK, mostly." She gave a slightly sad smile. "Not my dream, but such is life. You find yourself places in life you didn't think you would."
"I know what you mean."
She rested her chin on one hand, her elbow on his chest. Her weight was nothing to him, but her presence—now that was a different matter altogether. He kept trying to keep his mind on what he had forgotten during the course of the evening. "What would you want to do, if you had the chance for an ideal career?"
"I don't know, something in PR maybe."
"You'd be good at th
at."
"Thank you. I agree. What about you, how does being a courier suit?"
"Oh, I don't mind being a gofer. The guy I work for is sound. He's more like a friend."
"What would he think if he knew you were using work time to pick up women?"
He gave a soft laugh. "He wouldn't be surprised, but I'd like to point out that you picked me up."
"So I did, and you were well worth it." She snuggled closer and bit his chin.
That sent a jagged streak of interest down to his groin. She played rough and he loved it. His body was strung out under her, exhausted and yet wanting more. He breathed in the heady scent of sex, and chocolates. His thoughts blurred. What is it I'm here for? Struggling, he tried to hold the thread. "So, um, what are the finance people like to be around?"
"Stuffed shirts." She laughed. "That's not entirely fair. There is one woman I get on with, Abby, the one you brought the documents for, and she's a sweetie. She talks to me and stuff, she's a good laugh."
"A rock fan?"
"Nah, not that I know of. Although I suspect she's a bit of a rebel. She's not like the others."
A rebel, was that a bad sign? "In a good or a bad way?"
"Oh, a good way, definitely good. Like us, I mean. She's the only one who would stop and give you the time of day, to be honest."
She leaned to one side, her breasts bouncing free of his chest. Man, he wanted to suck on them. He wanted to sit her on his cock and mold those gorgeous breasts in his hands.
She ran one finger down the length of the scar on his cheek, then touched his lips. She looked at the smaller scars criss-crossing his forehead. "Where did you get those?"
He should've expected it. She was pretty direct. He tried not to clam up. "In a street fight."
"Did you start it?"
"No."
She nodded but didn't press him.
He sensed she was relieved. "Thought you'd brought a bruiser home, did you?"
"Hey buster, you're the one in the manacles." Gesturing up at the headboard where she had him handcuffed, her eyes twinkled.
He laughed aloud, the tension of the moment breaking. "Good point." That wasn't why she'd manacled him, though. She'd told him she liked the sexual power. He'd been surprised, yes, and it had driven him nearly insane with lust, but having her in charge just about shot his head off. What a buzz. He was convinced he'd lost the power of speech when he finally got to come.
"Do the scars bother you?" He was concerned, wanting to know what she thought of him.
