Page 15 of Blackmail
“Here.” I reach into the back, grab a clean towel from my gym bag, and hand it to him.
My breath stops as Simon strips off his suit jacket, leaving a white dress shirt partially see-through from the rain and clinging to his skin. My reaction doesn’t quite compute. I’ve seen this guy utterly naked in the act of getting railed by my soon-to-be ex-husband. I’m harder and hotter right now, seeing him wet and disheveled while fully clothed. He makes a delicious picture—the way drops of water cling to his lips and eyelashes, the rivulets dripping from his spiky hair.
“You’re a real piece of shit,” he says as he dries himself off.
I’m careful to keep my expression neutral. “You don’t achieve the kind of success I’ve achieved by treading lightly.”
He turns his head away from me, tracing his fingers along the raindrops sliding down the window. Then he breathes a quiet laugh. “No, I’m sure you don’t. Look, I’m sorry for my part in your situation, but I didn’t know. It wasn’t my job to know. If you report me to the police, that’ll suck because it’ll fuck my effort to get a legitimate job and keep me doing a thing I’m actively trying to quit. But if helping you screws Brennan over, he might kill me. Even if that weren’t the case, I owe that asshole my life. So do whatever you think you need to do, but I can’t testify in court for you.”
With that, he reaches for the door handle, and I’m moving almost before I realize. I reach across the console, my fingers digging into his upper thigh to stop him from leaving.
“Stop.”
“If you’re worried about getting the hour you paid for, tell Brennan I didn’t show. He’ll give me an ass-kicking and you a refund.”
Something in my chest tightens. So does the hand I’ve got on his leg. “I don’t care about the money.”
“Not what you said a minute ago.”
I curl my fingers in frustration, forgetting that half of them are pressing into Simon’s leg. He hisses but doesn’t pull away. Something about that gives me an adrenaline rush.
“It’s not only the money; it’s the principle. Tony didn’t earn that money, I did. It’s not as if he spent his days at home caring for our kids and cleaning the house. We didn’t have any children, and we did have a weekly cleaning lady named Elena. Tony had a small event planning business, which, as far as I could tell, was mostly a way to get invited to parties with the elites who had ostracized him when his father went bankrupt. Also, as far as I can tell, he spent the allowance I agreed to pay him on visits to the med spa and sex workers.”
“Whores.” Simon’s eyes glitter in the flash of a lightning strike.
Despite the situation, I almost want to laugh. “Whores.” I lean across the center console, still gripping his leg. “One whore in particular. Tony didn’t earn that money, Simon. I did. Meanwhile, I’ve had a crisis happening with my business, and I don’t have the time to deal with lawyers, paperwork, and courtrooms. I need this thing over and done.”
Simon almost smiles as he gestures at himself. “Look, I don’t hate too many things more than I hate wearing a suit, except maybe a damp one. I’d like to go home and finish taking it off. Feed my pet. Feed myself, since we didn’t eat dinner.”
Then he glances down at my hand on his thigh, and a wicked grin spreads across his face. “Unless you want to take me back to your place and help me remove it.”
There’s been a thick, crackling tension between us since Simon walked into that restaurant. Since we came face-to-face at my condo, even. It would muddy an already complicated situation if I were to sleep with this guy, of all people.
“Come on.” Simon licks his lip and rises to slide across the console, hovering only inches above me as if he might, at any moment, drop his ass into my lap. My body, already assuming it’s getting laid and on board with the plan, is stiff and throbbing.
“This has got to be so frustrating for you,” he whispers with his lips against my ear. “Your pretty business arrangement marriage is fucked, and the guy who helped fuck it won’t even help you get revenge. I bet you’re just aching for someone to take all that anger out on.”
Jesus. If Daniel were here, he’d probably laugh and tell me to go for it. Take that car for a test drive.
“You’re right.” My legs widen slightly, almost of their own accord. “I do. I want to take you home, take you out of that suit, and then I want to fucking destroy you.”
Part of me loves how his eyes go wide and his cheeks turn red. A professional like him has likely seen and heard everything, and I made him blush.
I cannot possibly get out of this car right now. If my painful erection didn’t stop me, the way he’s inflated my ego would.
His eyes darken. “Of course you do. You need your revenge. You deserve your revenge.”
Even as he says the words, his legs meet mine. He’s grinding roughly against me as if he’s taunting me into following through. His hot, dark gaze is glued to mine. There’s the slightest hint of a smile on his wet lips, and I can’t help but see this as some sort of challenge.
“I don’t want a revenge fuck,” I growl. My hands find their way to his ass, making me into a liar.
Uncertainty flashes in Simon’s eyes before he masks it with a flirty smile. “Liar.”
He doesn’t understand yet. My palm circles the hard cheek in my hand. Then I bring it back and land a slap hard enough to make the air rush out of him.
Perhaps I’ll regret all of this later, but right now I can’t stop myself.
“I want more than revenge,” I growl. “I want to gag you with my cock. I want it messy and rough until you can barely breathe, and you’ve got tears running down your face. I want to bend you over every piece of furniture I’ve got and cover you with bruises and bite marks, so you’re ruined for anyone else who comes along after. I want to force you to take my cock while I ruin the bed my husband screwed you in. I want to milk you over and over until you’re spent and dehydrated and begging me to make it end.”
