Page 93 of Destined To Fall

“I’ve known him for years. You know this. We’re…friends.”Sort of.

“Like we are?”

“Well, no.”

“Exactly. He’s had you in ways I can only dream about. Touched…” His eyes darken dangerously, and his voice dips lower as his breath fans my face.“Tasted…” I swallow the lump in my throat, my gaze dropping to his mouth-watering lips, and I feel more than hear his next words.“Taken everything he wants from your body, until you have nothing left to give, until you are both spent and sated.”

I’ve got nothing…except this painful need growing and coursing through me, sucking the very breath from my body.

He leans in close, the day-old growth on his jaw brushing my cheek, sending an involuntary shiver through me as he whispers in my ear.“And just when I thought I couldn’t want you more than I already do, more than I should, I realize there’s one place no one has ever been, ever touched.” He pulls back as the doors ping open, his eyes burning into mine, piercing my very soul.“I want that, Vivienne. The untouchable.”

My heart stops beating altogether when his gaze flickers to my mouth, and for a split second, I think he’s going to lean in and kiss me, taking what he so clearly wants. Instead, he walks away, leaving me speechless and breathless, staring after him in a trance.

Chapter Seventeen

It should be a typical Thursday night for me, except it isn’t. I’m a total disaster and all…bajiggity. What does that even mean, anyway? It’s a good word,though.Gah, focus!

These past few daysI’ve been completely off. I can’t concentrate. I can’t exercise, which is not normal at all, plus I’m refusing to message Jeremy. It’s tougher than I thought it would be.

I knock on the hotel suite door and shake myself. I’ve got three point two seconds to get my shit together before—

“Goddamn, Vivienne,” Trevor greets me. Every. Single Time.

“Good evening, Mr. Johnson.” His preferred reference, which isn’t even his real name, but whatever.“I hope you’ve stretched, because I’m gonna work you like a stripper pole on Topless Tuesday.”

“Oh, fuck, that’s it!” Trevor moans when I switch it up for the third time tonight, riding him harder than a granite countertop.“Yeah, Vivienne. Damn, you’re on fire!”

He’s not kidding. If I grind him any faster, we’re likely to ignite—we’ve been at it that long. For the last forty-three minutes, hell, from the moment I walked into the hotel room, I’ve been desperate to get some kind of reaction from my body, but I might as well be numb. I have a maximum of seven minutes before he blows, making it game over for at least the next sixteen, at which point I should give up. But I’ve been pumping and grinding to the max this whole evening. I doubt he’ll bounce back a fourth time, which will ruin any and all chances of me getting off.

“Don’t quit on me yet. I’m not finished with you.”

I grip his palms, and he grunts again when I pull him forward and lean back, my hair brushing his bare feet while I swirl my hips up and around, but that’s not cutting it either. So I haul myself up, pushing him down at the same time I grip one of his knees, lifting it toward my hip. I twist on him, bringing a leg across his torso to ride him sideways, grinding against his thigh, and Ifinallyfeel something, a twinge—though it could be friction burn—but I’m not a quitter, and I refuse to let go of my elusive O. Instead, I fuck him like there’s no tomorrow. Because for me, there might as well be.

“Agh,shit…” Trevor shudders, his eyes closing tight as he digs his fingers into my thigh.

“Seriously? Already?”No, no, no…

His whole body trembles twice before he opens his eyes and looks at me.

“You’re kidding, right? Like I would’ve lasted any longer with you riding me that hard and fast. And your leg rubbing against my balls,” he shivers, and his eyes glaze, giving him this dopey, drunk look.

Just peachy.

I clamber off him, saving myself at the last second before falling flat on my face and breaking my nose. Thankfully, Trevor is so out of it in his thoroughly fucked stupor, he misses that elegant display of skill, so I don’t bother saying goodbye. He wouldn’t hear me if I did, and our time was up half an hour ago,anyway. I leave him on the floor in his daze and gather my scattered clothes, putting them on as I head out. I have somewhere I need to be, stat.

I pound on the front door, my knuckles wincing with the force, and count to five before I do it again. It’s not typical in my line of work to get off, or even to enjoy it, but hell, I do—did. It’s the sole reason I do this, and the money,of course. At least I can say I like what I do, unlike a lot of others I know.

Keep telling yourself that.

“Jeremy. Open up!”

I hear him groan and curse before he reaches the door, opening it.

“Damn it, Vivienne, do you have any idea what time…” He trails off as the door opens wide, his eyes bugging out at the sight of me. Well, my attire anyway. He has yet to look at my face, which is a first,I think.

I’m quietly fuming, my hands on my hips, and the tighter-than-skin corset I’m bursting out of is stressed and straining with my laborious breathing.Why am I so flustered?I’m giving him an eyeful for only the second time in our friendship.

“You’ve got a little drool there,” I bite out harsher than I intend and push my way past him into his apartment. I hate when he looks at me like that. Like I’m water in the desert, and he wants nothing more than to drink every last drop. I hate it further still when it makes my blood sing and my skin prickle. Without fail, every single time.

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