Page 50 of Edge of Ruin
“And ... well, I couldn’t. I tried to be a zombie slave, but nothing came out. He got really angry. And you know the rest.”
“Yeah,” he said. “I do.”
He stared up into my hot, flushed face. The deep rocking slide of his cock inside me was impossible to resist. He held me firmly, thrusting up, stirring me around, making me gasp and bite my lip, trembling with wild excitement.
“I destroyed his office, at the end,” I said. “I was so angry. Freaked out. Out of my head. I think I smashed probably thirty thousand dollars’ worth of art.”
“Good.” He thrust harder, jarring a whimper from my throat. “Did he say, ‘You’ll never work in this town again,’ et cetera?”
“Yes,” I said, bleakly.
“And you believed him?”
I braced myself against his chest. “Of course I believed him!” I said tartly. “It was true! He blacklisted me, Jack! The guy has clout!”
He stopped moving, petting my hair. “Okay,” he murmured. “Sorry.”
“I thought I was finished,” I went on. “Then Rafael stepped in.”
“Who’s this Rafael, anyhow?” Jack frowned. “Another boyfriend?”
“Rafael? Good God, no. Rafael’s just my buddy, and besides, he likes boys.”
“So you drove off with Rafael and left the whole mess behind you.”
The finality of his voice made tension grip my chest. “Hey. Don’t you dare blame me for?—”
“I’m not blaming you,” he said. “You did the right thing.”
I was startled. “I … you really think so?”
He pulled me back down on top of him. “Yeah. I do.”
I relaxed against his solid warmth. His quiet statement soothed something deep inside me. “I think you’re the only person who’s ever said that, except for Rafael,” I said. “Lucia thought I was giving up. My sisters, too. It’s hard to go against everyone’s advice.”
He stroked my back without replying, warm and comforting.
“Poor Lucia,” I murmured. “I was a heartbreak to her. I defied her in every way. From my clothes to my ill-fated career choices.”
“Were you one of those girls with spiked hair and safety pins?”
I snorted. “Not quite. I did have thigh-high lace-up black leather boots, though.”
“Really?”
“Oh, yeah. They were the centerpiece of my wardrobe. I wore them with ripped fishnet stockings and a purple velvet miniskirt.”
“My God,” he said, with feeling. He reached down to slide his thumb tenderly into the top of my labia, circling around my clit. “Do you still have them?”
I writhed against him, gasping with pleasure, eyes shut. “Have what?”
“The boots.”
My eyes popped open, and I started to laugh. “Ah…I don’t think so,” I said. “Maybe in a box in Lucia’s attic. It was a long time ago.”
I giggled at the wistful look on his face, and he frowned at me. “What’s so funny?”
“You,” I said. “I thought you would disapprove of my slutty boots. Brian hated them with a passion. You surprise me, that’s all.”
