Page 52 of Was I Ever Real

But I'd be a fool to think Connor isn’t in control—even now, on his knees. I revel in the feeling nonetheless—swallowing it long and deep as it warms my stomach like a glass full of bourbon.

He carefully places my foot down, and then cradles the other one. This time his fingers caress up my calf, moving higher and higher up my thigh. My knees nearly buckle underneath me.

“Tell me, my darling. Do you still hate me now?” he says before burning another kiss at the top of my foot.

I try hiding the hard swallow and the fact that I think I’ve lost the ability to speak, especially when one of his hands is coming dangerously close to where I want him most.

He raises an eyebrow and it almost feels like a taunt.

He’s waiting for me to answer his question.

I take a slow inhale before speaking, trying to center myself back into a space of control. “Ask again after you’ve made me come.”

I pull my foot out of his grasp and turn around.

“Unzip me.”

His fingers whisper across my skin before I feel the tug, the dress loosening around me. Delicately, I step out of it, and carry it into the bedroom, laying it on the vanity chair before walking out into the hall. For a fleeting second, I think he won’t follow, but then I hear his steady steps as I enter his bedroom, strutting in with nothing but my black stilettos and adorning diamonds.

I sit at the edge of his bed, and watch him lean against the door, studying me. His gaze is serious, like this is the most important thing he’ll ever witness and I slowly open my legs wide. With a feral curl of his lips, he pushes off the door, and stalks towards the bed.

I point to the carpeted floor in front of me.

“Kneel.”

Connor’s feet stagger, it’s so quick I would’ve missed it if I wasn’t already seeking a reaction out of him. His smile is devious as he closes in, kneeling in front of me for the second time tonight.

I could get used to this feeling.

His black eyes light me up, never leaving mine as he slides his hands over my open thighs, his thumbs digging into my flesh.

But before he can get any further, I squeeze my thighs closed and give him a taunting chide.

“It’ll cost you.”

Connor’s dark chuckle is like an opioid threatening to pull me under.

“Your orgasms are mine, remember?”

He tries to lunge, but I pull back, propping one stiletto on his chest and tut.

“At a price, Mr. Maxwell,” I drawl.

His gaze dips between my legs and then back up again. My heart is pounding behind my ribs but I force an expression of arrogant ennui on my face, removing my foot from his torso, waiting for him to react. His face is serious, hooded eyes of the purest black. He rests back on his heels, his hand disappearing into his coat jacket and pulling out his wallet. His heated gaze never leaves mine. Slowly, he slides out a hundred dollar bill and flicks it at my feet.

“Enough?”

Lust engulfs my senses but I keep my demeanor calm. My lips twitch mischievously, the shake of my head infinitesimal before slowly unfurling my palm in front of him.

The low growl rumbling through his chest tells me he’s as equally affected while he pulls out another hundred dollar bill, his eyes still locked in and burning, placing it into my hand.

Then another.

And another.

I swallow hard, my core clenching while he finally places the last one atop the rest. My fingers barely have time to close around it when Connor’s hands grip my thighs once more, dragging me close to the edge of the bed.

“Now let me taste what I’ve paid for,” he groans.

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