Page 64 of Deny Me

His hand moved to my shoulder and dragged its way down to my hip. “I bet if I reach under this sexy-as-sin dress you have on, I would find you hot,” he began scrunching my skirt up, “and wet.”

Moving my head back on the wall, I lifted my eyes to his, hardening them into a challenge. I shouldn’t have been taking the bait, but the spark of familiarity urged me on. Setting my jaw, I met his smirking eyes head on, refusing to back down.

“There she is.” Satisfaction colored his words.

Dragging a deep breath of air in through my flared nostrils, I held his gaze, fighting the desire to let my lids drop and relish the feel of his fist pulling my skirt higher and higher.

“Has he touched you?” he demanded to know. “Has he kissed you?” He pressed his lips to mine and pulled away too quick for me to keep him close. “Hmm?”

“No,” I answered, shaking my head against the wall. I could feel the cold air conditioning rushing against my damp panties.

“Are you sure? He hasn’t felt how wet – how tight – this pussy is?” His finger dragged across the silk covering the seam of my vagina and growled. “So fucking wet.” Without warning, his fingers tugged the material aside and pushed to rub against my clit, circling it in wide, languid strokes.

“I’m – I’m sure.” My lashes lowered, and I could barely see him. Chest heaving, my breaths came rushing in and out. “Jameson.” That time his name was a plea. Whether to stop or give me more, I didn’t know.

“He wouldn’t know what to do with this cunt.” A finger pushed in. Then two. “That boy out there would probably waste this precious gift.”

When he leaned in to nip at my lips, I was fast enough to capture his in a kiss first. We exploded. His hand gripped into my hair and held me in place as we devoured each other. His fingers still moved in and out of my core relentlessly: roughly taking what I had been denying him.

The harder he pushed, the less I was able to control the whimpers coming from my throat. In the back of the bar, where this had all started, he was controlling me and I was letting him. I was letting the waves of excitement – of exhibitionism – build. Only this man knew what it was that made me tic, that made me hotter than ever before.

He stroked my clit in perfect rhythm to the way his fingers plunged inside, rubbing my g-spot. My hands dug into his shirt as I held on and let the shocks spread through my body, expanding from my core.

“Jameson. Jameson."

Leaning his forehead against mine, he closed the circles around my nub tighter and tighter until I couldn’t stand the pressure anymore. Biting down on my bottom lip to hold back my cries, I came. The walls of my core clenched around his fingers as I held my breath, trying to staunch the screams knocking at my throat.

His movements slowed and eased me down from my orgasm. My fingers released their death grip from his back and a part of me hoped I’d left marks on his skin for him to remember me by.

Leaning in, he kissed the indents from my teeth biting my lip before leaning his forehead back to mine. “Tell me you don’t love me.”

My eyes shot to his. Panicked breaths sawed in and out of my lungs. “Jameson.” I shook my head slowly until his hand came up to grip my chin. I could smell myself on his fingers, and a flood of regret washed over me. Not because it happened, but because it shouldn’t have. I’d only made brushing him off harder than it needed to be. One more mistake to add to the list of the night. Taking a deep breath, I tried to avoid answering. “I’ve already explained. I’m leaving and I don’t do relationships.”

His soft blue eyes still looked down at me like they had the morning he let me know he loved me. My brush-off wasn’t working. I had to find a meanness in me to push him away. I couldn’t keep letting him hang on. I guarded my heart against my next words. Complete coldness would be the only way to push him back. “Sure. He’s a dick. But I don’t want him for his personality. I only need his dick. Maybe his fingers or tongue.” The fingers on my jaw tightened painfully, but I pushed on, ripping my own heart out and dropping it on the floor between us, letting it mix with the foul words I forced myself to say. “Come on. You know I get bored easily and I don’t want to spend my last few days doing the same damn thing. Or person,” I ended with a shrug that physically hurt to do. “This was nice, but think of it as a goodbye.”

“Evelyn, you think I don’t know you. You think I don’t know you’re scared–”

“I’m not scared. I don’t get scared,” I interjected.

“Bullshit.”

“Just because I don’t want to fuck you anymore, doesn’t mean I’m scared.” He cocked his eyebrow, not believing me, and I snapped. He pushed and he pushed and I was backed into a corner. He would crowd me and hang around and put his life on hold waiting for mine, and I wouldn’t allow it. Trying to fight my way out of the corner, I let an ice fall over me, numbing me, and aimed straight for his heart. “Maybe I’ll like the way his dick feels. Maybe I’ll like the way he licks my pussy. No one ever does it the same and, honey, I like variety.”

He stood back and pinned me to the wall with a hard stare. I needed him to back off and let me go, because the words had broken something inside me, and I could feel it spreading from the inside out. I needed out before I crumbled before him.

“Tell me you don’t love me,” he demanded one last time through a clenched jaw.

Taking one stuttering breath in, I lied. “I don’t love you.”

We stared at each other, not moving. We had just had a battle of words, and I had won. But for the first time, it felt like losing. Tears were burning the backs of my eyes, and I held his angry glare, giving it all I had to hide the storm waiting to break inside.

“Get the fuck out of my bar.” He turned and stomped away, not giving me one glance back.

A lone tear broke loose and rolled down my cheek as I fell back against the wall. Quickly, I wiped it away and fixed my skirt. Keeping my head down, I walked to my table and grabbed my purse with a quick excuse of needing to leave and darted out of King’s.

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