“But you don’t know the mechanics.”
She shakes her head.
I can’t scare the hell out of this girl by telling her where I’d like to put ten inches of hard cock. My wish is to keep her safe, and she’ll feel the furthest thing from it if I’m brutally honest. No, I can’t. I’d rather gnaw off my own arm before making her afraid.
In the meantime, though, there’s a sweet, horny girl humping my hand like she can’t help it and doesn’t know why she’s even compelled to do it. And there’s a ten-mile-wide streak of responsibility inside me to relieve her ache. Not in here, though. I’m not letting down my guard in this place for a second. It could put Hailey in jeopardy, and that is flat-out unacceptable.
I lean in and kiss her mouth hard, twisting those bee-stung lips with mine and delivering tongue deep, rubbing it against hers. When she seems poised to lose herself, I ease back an inch. “Tell Mick how your pussy feels now.”
“Wet,” she whispers, sounding embarrassed. “Ticklish, I think?”
“That’s good, Goldie. That’s how it should feel.” Her visible relief makes my throat hurt. “I can make it feel even better. In a way that will stop the ticklish feeling and make you relax again.”
She nods, her hands sliding up and back on my shoulders, her legs restless. “That’s what I want. It’s like a balloon and I’m filling up…”
“And you want to be popped.”
“Yes.”
“Good girl.” I lift her off the stool, pleased when her ankles lock behind my back. After making sure the coat is covering her ass, I stride for the exit.
“Hey!” The bartender yells. “You haven’t paid for her drinks.”
“I’ll be back.”
No sooner have I kicked open the bar door than we’re in front of my Mercedes. I unlock the door and settle Hailey on her feet, then duck into the backseat and bring her with me, tucking her sideways on my lap and slamming the door. With a press of a button, I hear the lock engage, and knowing she’s safe, I discard my keys in the foot well.
She tucks her face into my neck, her finger drawing an invisible heart on my chest. “Can we do more kissing?”
Oh my God. Every time I think her spell has pulled me in deep as possible, I sink further. If there were a twenty-four-hour wedding chapel within view, I’d kick the door down and demand they make her my wife. Mine. She’s just…mine. My fucking pulse is going crazy and my stomach is permanently flipped as proof. “We can kiss as much as you want. But I’m going to touch you more while we do it.” I untie the belt of her coat and push the sides apart. Despite the dark interior of the car, I see her perked nipples, the swell of her tits over the top of her sports bra, the slim taper of her belly. “You want my hands on you, don’t you, baby?”
The pull of her gaze sucks me in and I go willingly, letting her see everything inside me, hoping she sees a man worthy of her trust. “Yes.”
Hailey
With one simple word, I’ve handed this man my faith.
I haven’t been given the opportunity to trust anyone in a long time and I’m rusty at it. No, I haven’t tried believing in anyone since four years ago when my mother was killed by a rival organization, my father moving us from New York to Hollywood and immediately putting me in the tower. You remind me too much of her. I can’t look at you. Get out of my sight.
Every year on my birthday, my father lets me out of the room and takes me to a movie, but his jaw remains clenched the whole time. You’re looking more and more like her all the time. You do it on purpose. To torment me.
Bad things happen downstairs in our house. Not that I’ve ever been allowed to confirm with my eyes. There is one heating vent that connects to my father’s office, so I hear snippets of plans, locations, dates. But as far as the revelry I suspect takes place well below my tower, I know nothing about it. Only that women and men arrive in giant groups in the evening and leave looking wilted. Tired.
Or carrying boxes.
Boxes that contain my paintings.
“Goldie,” Mick groans, his right hand landing on my belly, rough and hot. It slides up higher, higher. And just when I think Mick will stop, those fingers travel on beneath my bra, lifting the material and…he’s actually touching my breasts. I bite back a whimper and watch him cup my left breast, then the right. Molding the small globes in his giant hands. “Ah, Jesus. You beautiful little thing.”
There’s a flutter in my belly. “I…am I?”
His touch pauses. “You have no idea you’re an angel, do you? Look like you fell right out of the fucking sky.”