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“Then name your price, Elise Bettencourt.”
She reaches out, slow and gentle, and taps my chest.You.
I’m fairly certain she’s reached through and tapped my heart. The muscle jumps in my chest. I don’t have to search for something interesting about Elise. All of her is beyond fascinating. Every inch of her body. Every touch of her fingertips.
I put a hand on her neck, pull her down to the pillows, and look at her.
Justlookat her. I want to look at her more than I’ve ever wanted to look at anything. I don’t have to search or pry or use. I’m not looking for a key.
Unfortunately for Elise Bettencourt,I’mthe key. I don’t know how such a broken, mangled key could do fucking anything, but I’ve fit into her lock. She wants to fix it. Make it better somehow. It’s almost beside the point that she can’t.
I bend my head and kiss the side of her neck. Taste her. Slow. Like we have all the time in the world.
Her body arches toward mine.
“Do you like it here?” Elise slides her fingers into my hair, bringing my head tighter to her neck. I lick her, and she shivers. “Do you actually want to be here?”
I keep my face where it is, at the soft skin near her shoulder where her pulse flutters fast and light.Safe,that scent says.It’s fine. It’s okay.
Safe to take her hand and bring it down between our bodies to my cock.
Elise wraps her fingers around me with a little sigh. “How can you be…” She laughs, the sound warm like the blankets. “How can you be so hard and sosoftat the same time?”
My hips move into her grip. I can’t help it. “Do you want me to be different?”
I’m teasing. And I mean it.
Elise shifts underneath me, spreading her legs. She angles me to her pussy and drags my tip over her folds. I’m supposed to be the one fucking her. I’m always the one running the show. But for the life of me, I can’t lift my face from her neck. I can’t do anything but feel the shudders in her body while she uses me to make herself feel good.
My tip brushes over her clit. Elise gasps, her hand tightening around me, and I raise my chin to speak into her ear. “Little circles, sweetness. Make yourself come like that. You won’t hurt me.”
I’m close enough to feel her face heat. Elise doesn’t argue. She spreads her legs wider and lets me balance more of my weight. She’s slung pleasure across my hips. Just the fact that she’s touching me makes me feel so good that I wonder why I’ve pushed this away for so long. I could have cream in my coffee. I could have sugar. I could have Elise Bettencourt. Those things won’t stop me from having justice, too.
She makes small circles, just like I told her. Elise’s other hand is still in my hair. She clenches and releases, the rest of her muscles doing the same thing.
In comparison to the vast list of things I’ve done, this is incredibly tame.
And it feels like a breathtaking risk. I don’t let people touch me. I haven’t. But this is all I want. The urge to make her stop is thin and airy. It doesn’t have much power. I don’t let it get more substantial.
It’s all I can do not to push up and come all over her belly. Or take over and push inside.
The circles are getting to Elise. Her hips work. Her body gets hotter. She can’t let go of me.
“If we had more time.” It sounds hard for her to get the words out. It’s harder to hear them. We don’t have more time. I don’t know how many days we have left, but it can’t be more than a few. “If we had more time, would you do—would you—”
My natural, broken instinct is to put my hand over hers so she’s not actually the one in control, but I glide my palm to her throat instead. “Would I play dirty games with you?”
Elise nods, her breath hitching.
“Ah. You like it sweet, don’t you? You like using me as your own personal sex toy. But I’ve seen what makes you blush. You want it to hurt a little. You want to play a game”—I nip at her earlobe—“where it’s not so sweet. Where it’s just as rough as you can handle.”
The sound she makes isn’t a word, but it meansyes. Elise turns her head. Her dark eyes find mine. Her pupils are huge. Her cheeks flushed. Her lips part, then close, then part again.
“You,” she says. “Would you? Like it?”
As if my hand isn’t already at her throat. I add pressure. Just a little. Her eyes get wider. “Yes. Are you going to come?”
“Are you going to make me cry?” Elise is so close that her voice shakes with every word. My cock twitches in her hand. Jesus, she’s so sweet. She’s so filthy. And so trusting. I know where this comes from. I know what she’s asking. I can give it to her. Just not forever.
