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I let him fall from my mouth and gently push him to lie back. “Let’s not think about it,” I say, climbing over him.
“But if she could, she’d probably be pissed,” he says, watching between us as I sink onto him.
“It’s been six months, Jimmy. I don’t think she’d be mad.”
“You didn’t know her. She was a fiery woman and so jealous.”
I place my hands on his chest and begin to move, fucking him fast. “Oh fuck,” I pant, like I’m having the time of my life. “Oh yes.”
“Maybe she’s with her mother,” he says, panic on his face.
“Jesus, Jimmy, what’s wrong with you tonight?” I ask, grabbing his hands and placing them over my bra. “I’m pulling out my best moves here, and you’re thinking about your dead wife and mother-in-law watching us.”
“Sorry,” he mutters.
I turn so my back is to him and try again. Maybe if he’s not looking at my face, he’ll feel better. I grip his knees and sink down onto his cock. “That’s it,” I pant, “fill me up.”
He comes hard a second later, groaning as I slow my movements. Thank the lord.
I’m halfway through my soup when my bell rings, indicating my next client is coming up. I groan, placing the lid on my cup and rushing to the bathroom to brush my teeth.
“Why are you at work?” I huff out loud at the sound of Grizz’s voice. “I went to see you and your babysitter answered. She’s got a boy round there.”
“So?” I mutter, going back into the bedroom.
“She’s supposed to be watching Ivy, not canoodling with boys.”
I smirk. “Canoodling?”
“You shouldn’t be here after what happened.”
I push the memories of Danny and his friend from my mind and sit in front of the mirror. “I have a client due.”
“I’ll give you the money,” he says, and I frown. “If it means you take a few nights off to rest, I’ll give you money.”
“I don’t need charity,” I say, applying a little foundation to my skin.
“Fable—”
“Luna,” I correct. “I’m only Fable when we’re fucking.”
“Jesus,” he mutters, giving me that disgusted look again. “Please, will you take the night off and rest?”
“No.” He sighs heavily and glances at his watch. “If I’m keeping you, feel free to leave.”
“It’s . . .” He trails off. “What time are you finishing?”
“Late.”
“Luna,” he snaps.
“I don’t know,” I say, shrugging. “Thalia is pissed I came in late, so she’ll probably stick fat Malcolm on my list and he takes ages to finish.” I notice how he balls his hands into fists, but he chooses not to comment. “Go about your business. I don’t need a sitter, remember?”
He grumbles to himself and storms out.
After another half-hour, and once I’ve finished my soup, I head downstairs. Thalia looks up from her magazine. “Don’t I have clients?”
“Not anymore,” she says, arching a brow and going back to reading about celebrities.
