Page 21 of Blackmail
“Besides—” He gives my arm a playful shove. “—you promised me more than one orgasm. You got anyplace to be, Daddy?”
I do. I should get back to the office. We got nothing from Cam about his abduction, and I need to find some other way to keep my company from losing clients. But I’ve managed to terrify half the staff this past week, and I can’t think of anything that must be done tonight. Or that someone else can’t handle in my absence.
Besides, I’m not ready to stop touching Simon. Not yet.
“Daddy? I’m not much older than you.” I examine him through narrowed eyelids. He has a lot of wisdom in his eyes, but that grinning face will probably have trouble buying alcohol for years to come.
“I’ll be twenty-two next month.”
“Well, I’m twenty-five. Hardly daddy material.”
“Daddy’s a state of mind. Besides, twenty-five is practically ancient.”
I let out a growl. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a brat?”
He feigns shock. “Oh no, Daddy. I’ve been so, so bad. It sounds like I’m going to need punishment. You’d probably better spank me again.”
Later, I’m sure I’ll have second and third thoughts about how goddamn good it feels to have Simon fall into this role for me. But not now.
Now, I’ve got other ideas. “Or maybe I need to plug your mouth with my cock.”
“You know what I think?”
“I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”
“I think we should do what you said back at the restaurant. Let’s go and make a mess of that bed you caught your husband cheating on you in. Fuck all your frustrations out on my face.”
“That sounds a little bit twisted.” I’m already on board.
Simon’s answering grin is wicked, and I want everything he’s promising right now.
“You’ll have to catch me first,” he says. Then he takes off down the hall.
I shake my head. Then I chase him down.
Chapter
Nine
SIMON
I wake up in a dark room. For a moment, I’m disoriented. The salt lamp by my bed isn’t glowing, and the sheets against my body are smooth and satiny, not the brushed cotton I’m used to.
My face is nuzzled against a sculpted chest, and I struggle to move. Aside from my younger brother (who kicked like a fucking mule in his sleep), I’ve never shared a bed with anyone in my life. As a kid I always hated not having the bed to myself, but this is strangely comfortable.
I’m cozy. Cocooned. Safe, in a way that makes my nerves jangle. I’m not used to feeling safe.
Then the arm around my waist slides down to palm my ass, and the sleeping man against me makes a quiet “hmm” kind of noise. All at once, the events that led me here rush back.
Sebastian. The shortest dinner date in history, the storm, the steamy car ride, and barely making it inside the door of his condo before we couldn’t keep our hands off each other all slam into my brain. Sebastian spanking me, fingering me, wiping away my tears?—
“Shut up, shut up. Shut. Up,” I whisper to myself. Thinking about the intimacy of that moment and how warm and gooey it felt is not something I can afford to do. Not something I even want. Intimacy only ever got me fucked in a bad way.
No. So much no.
My heart rate kicks up as I remember Sebastian chasing me down the hall, tackling me to the bed, and making me choke on his cock until he came. And after, when he wiped my face on the black satin sheets beneath me, leaving smears of the cum I hadn’t managed to swallow completely.
Judging from the sore spots on my neck and shoulders, I’ll have bruises from where he dug his fingers in as he held me in place. I hate how my body tingles with anticipation. I want to go home, get a mirror, and inspect every single one of them.
