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My tongue darts over my lips. “Would you be in the mood for games otherwise?”
He goes still with a glass of wine halfway to his lips. “What?”
“Games. You said you’re not in the mood for games because you have a lot on your mind.” I prop my elbows on the table and hunch my shoulders, which I know pushes my boobs together. The dress is tight enough that they’re practically bulging out.
Typical man. Those dark eyes focus right on them. “It depends on the game.”
“I’m sure it does. And you have to control the rules, of course.”
“Of course.” His lips twitch a little before he touches them to his glass, sipping more wine but staring at me. I’ve captured his attention. Whatever he’s pissed about is secondary now.
“See? I catch on eventually.” I manage the ghost of a smile, lifting my own glass. A crisp white wine, icy cold. I wish I could savor it but right now, I’m fighting for an inch of ground. An ounce of control. “I mean, let’s be fair. I was a little too shaken up earlier, but who could blame me?”
“You mean there’s anything that could surprise you after dating that piece of shit?”
I grit my teeth at the thought of him. “I let my guard down for a minute. Now that he’s out of my life, you know?”
Luca leans back in his chair, fingers tented under his chin. “So what is it? Is he hung like a horse?”
“You mean why else would I be with him?”
“I know it can’t be his looks. And I doubt he’s what you’d call upwardly mobile, career-wise.”
“I don’t want to talk about him anymore.” I push my chair back and stand, letting my fingers trail over the tablecloth as I round the corner and place myself in front of Luca. He angles his body toward mine, his brow furrowed.
“What do you want to talk about?” he asks in a softer voice than before.
“Who says we have to talk?” I lean over him, letting my hair trail over his chest as I take the arms of his chair in both hands. It takes a quick little tug for him to get the hint, and he helps me rotate the chair until he’s facing me.
Without saying a word, I lower myself to my knees. This is acting, that’s all. Nothing about this is real. I used to wonder how Deanna could disconnect from what she was doing with her clients. Now I know. It’s all about pretending none of it is really happening.
I run my hands up his thighs, noting their thickness. His eyelids begin to lower while his breath comes quicker than before. “Ready to finish your interview?” he asks.
I don’t say a word. I can’t. Every part of me is focused on doing this well. I take hold of his belt and open it, letting my hands linger on the twitching bulge in his pants before I unbutton the waist and lower the zipper.
He can pretend all he wants to be in control of himself, but no man can think straight when his dick is in somebody else’s hands. I slide my fingers into his shorts and come up against his thick shaft. His sharp intake of breath makes me smile to myself as I ease him free. “Let’s see what we’re working with, shall we?”
The sight of him startles me into silence. Damn. Talk about being hung like a horse. I glance up from his twitching dick and give him what I hope is a sexy smile before lowering my head. Here goes nothing.
“Oh, fuck, yes.” He lifts his hips slightly when I take him in my mouth, groaning deep. “Yes, that’s good.” I barely manage not to cringe when his hand cups the back of my head. The sooner I make him come, the sooner this is over. I can ignore his fingertips massaging my scalp when I focus on getting him off.
I flick the tip of my tongue over the bundle of nerves just under his head and he gasps, tugging my hair. “Shit, that’s nice.” I reward him with another flick and he surges in my mouth, thickening, practically throbbing. When I look up at him across the length of his body I find his eyes closed, his mouth partly open. The face of a man sinking into bliss.
How easy would it be to stick a knife in his thigh right now? To slice an artery and make a run for it? Sure, I’d get really far in these shoes, with no car and no idea exactly where I am. Focus, damn it. I add pressure with my tongue and let his head run along the roof of my mouth until he groans again, louder this time.
“You’re so fucking good.” I moan in reply and he moans back, hips thrusting, his fingers moving along my scalp. I work with him, moving slowly. Sensually. Twisting my head slightly from side to side as I move up and down. Following his reactions. Picking up my pace.
He grips the arm of the chair with his free hand—from the corner of my eye I notice his knuckles standing out bone-white against his tan skin. He’s close, panting for air, barely stifling his groans. “Make me come, Delilah,” he whispers. “Make me come in your mouth.”
I suck hard now, hollowing my cheeks, and that’s all it takes. A moment later the taste of his cum blasts across my tongue. I fight off the urge to gag and pull away, instead slowing my pace until he settles back with a sigh and the pressure from his hand eases. Only then do I swallow while lifting my head and letting him fall from my lips.
It isn’t the first blowjob I’ve given to a man I hated. It probably won’t be the last now that Luca knows I learned a thing or two. I couldn’t help but learn. It was either that or take those pigs inside me in other ways.
But this isn’t one of my mother’s hookups or so-called friends sitting in front of me, slouched in his chair after coming faster than I dared hope. It’s a man much more dangerous and sinister, and I can’t forget it.
He’s still breathless and hanging out of his pants when I stand and take my chair again. A mouthful of wine washes away the taste of him. I take another gulp for good measure before picking up my silverware and cutting the chicken on my plate. “Mm. This is good,” I murmur before taking another bite of the tender meat. “I wish I’d gotten some when it was still hot.”
Chapter Seven - Luca
