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ABI
“Are you all right?”
I blink and Mr. Gruco seems to materialize in front of me. His brow is furrowed in a questioning stare, and his hand is extended toward me with a drink in it. It’s brown, and I assume it’s scotch because that’s what Devin drinks. They might as well be the same person.
“Of course,” I say, a nervous tinge to my voice. I take the glass and bring it to my lips before downing a gulp of the liquid courage. I was wrong, it’s bourbon.
I cough and bring the glass down, blinking away the sting in my eyes.
He takes the tumbler from me, holding both our glasses expertly in one large palm, and he leads me back over to the cart. He sets my drink down, then swallows the rest of his bourbon before slamming it down on the metal cart as well and turning his attention to me.
His eyes morph from cold to dripping with lava as he takes me in, making me feel as if I’m already naked. He wipes away the leftover bourbon that’s collected in the corners of his lips, and then steps close to me.
His hand glides my hair over my shoulder, and I shudder but don’t take my eyes off the black tie hanging from his neck. I can’t look into his eyes right now because I’m terrified of what I might see. There’s a glint when someone wants to hurt you, a sadistic twinge that can never be covered up.
It haunts me every time I close my eyes.
“What’s your name?” His fingers trail up my neck, and he cups my chin, tilting it up to look at him. The look is there. Clear as day.
Sadistic.
Demented.
Hungry.
“Abi.”
“Abi,” he echoes, running a thumb over my jawline in a gentle caress that’s like a cobra’s dance before it strikes. “You’re beautiful, Abi.”
My lips part on their own accord, and his thumb glides over them. The pad of his thumb is rough against my lips, bare from my lipstick rubbing off hours ago, and it feels so odd. I wait for his touch to turn rough, closing my eyes and paying attention to each of his movements.
It feels good. I hate that it feels good, and I won’t let my guard down in spite of it, but it does.
“So beautiful,” he whispers, bending so his breath skates over my ear. His palm rests heavily on my shoulder, and he plants butterfly kisses down my neck, just above my collar, and then back up to my ear.
He presses his thumb down on my lower lip and slowly inches it inside my mouth. I know what he wants, and so does my tongue. I roll it over the nail and suck him farther into my mouth, moaning as I do. I tell myself it’s an act, remind myself of all that’s at stake for a short while of pretending to be a pro, but when he undoes the buttons on my blouse and slides the material off my shoulders, my body’s response is real. My nipples pebble against the thin material of my boring beige bra I’m certain a prostitute wouldn’t be wearing, and cool air kisses my skin, sending goosebumps over my flesh.
He slides his thumb out of my mouth and tucks it under the top of my bra, finding my nipple and using my saliva to lubricate the circular path around it.
I close my eyes and bite down hard on my cheek. He uses his free hand to work my other nipple, this time his own saliva as the lubricant. I try to ignore the buds hardening to the point of pain, but I can’t. I can feel him, this stranger, pressing against me, feel his quickening breath kissing my skin, feel his touch hungry and intimate. It hits me that this is the first time I’ve been with someone who isn’t my husband since I was eighteen.
It feels good.
Too good.
Blood coats my tongue as I bite down on my cheek harder, but I use the pain to distract myself from the tears threatening to come. I blink quickly and grasp his wrists, giving him a forced smile when his eyes snap to mine.
“Wouldn’t you rather I take care of you?” I ask, beginning to lower to my knees.
A bruising grip on my arm halts me, and the fake smile vanishes when I register his angry glare.
“I’d rather you stick to the fucking terms and stop pretending you’re in charge.” He yanks me up, and my eyes widen as I stare into his. He must notice my fear, though, because he eases his hold and his face softens a moment later.
“If I wanted you to suck me off, I’d let you know. You’re sure you’re not new to this?”
“I uh…” My thoughts jumble, and I glance over his shoulder and then back at him. “I—”
“You what?”
