“Why then?” he demanded.
“Because life hasn’t killed off the good parts of you yet.”
His pace stuttered at that and she regretted letting the words slip out, but he didn’t give her time to take them back. “You give me too much cr
edit, doc. Life’s done a hell of a lot to me. And I promise you, none of it’s good.”
His fingers found her clit again, and he stroked her with expert precision and no reprieve. Her thoughts blurred around the edges and her breath soughed out of her in quick, loud bursts. Orgasm wouldn’t be far behind.
“Make me the offer again, doc,” he growled as his fingers worked her.
She couldn’t think, couldn’t focus. “What?”
“Tell me you want me to fuck you for money.”
She was sweating, her hair and makeup would be ruined. She couldn’t find it in her to care. “I want you to fuck me. For money.”
“Good. Here’s the catch, doc. I’m in control. I set the rules. You’re paying me, but you’re my plaything. And only mine.”
Her need to come was so strong her entire body was pulsing with it, but she forced herself to focus on the words. “I’m not a submissive.”
“Don’t need you to be. Don’t want you to be. You can fight me as much as you want. And you’ll always have your safe word. We can even keep it quiet at work so that you don’t taint your precious reputation. But I come over when I want. I’m in charge of how things go. That means I won’t be treated like a dog who needs to be sent home after getting his scraps. If I want to stay over, I’ll stay. I’ve had enough rich bitches send me home after they’ve used up the help. I’m not the help anymore. No fuck is worth going back to that. Not even one with you.”
She winced.
“But I will give you the guarantee you want, the one to fix that thing that scares you so much.”
“What’s that?” she whispered.
“I won’t expect more than you’re capable of giving. I know who you are. You don’t have to pretend you’re something different with me. And when it’s time, I’ll walk away. I’ve spent my whole life walking away. I’m good at it.”
“Lane…”
He pressed the length of his body against her back. “Now come for me, doc. Come all over my hand and then walk back to that table with your soaked panties and throbbing cunt and tell Isaiah that you’re off the market.”
She gasped, fighting hard not to make too much noise, and writhed on Lane’s fingers, her entire attention focused on the pleasure coursing through her. She couldn’t think about the fact that she was in some dark storeroom or that she’d made some crazy deal with Lane. She’d worry about that when her world wasn’t exploding behind her eyelids.
“That’s it,” Lane said softly against her skin. “Show me how sexy you are when you come, how hungry you are for this.”
Lane banded his other arm around her waist and turned her with him, putting his back to the wall and her front toward the cracked mirror leaning against the other side.
The broken reflection stared back at her. Her dress was hiked up and her panties pushed aside. Lane’s fingers worked her, a knee-weakening orgasm making her shamelessly rock herself against him. She was the picture of a woman utterly undone. And his expression was pure male intent. Determined. Stern. Almost grim.
Going on expression alone, she’d guess he wasn’t enjoying things. But his body said otherwise. His erection was like steel against her ass and his heart pounded against her back. What that did to her was visceral and potent. She knew Lane could fake interest if needed. His job required that. But that wasn’t the case with her. He wasn’t doing this for the money or an easy lay.
That both comforted her and scared the shit out of her. Because if not for one of those, why was he going through the trouble?
But the thought escaped her as her mind went blank with pleasure. Her eyes closed and she let herself fall into the bliss of all that sensation. She’d think later. Right now, she’d just feel.
“That’s it,” he said after a few moments, the words quiet against her ear and his hand slipping away. “It’s a deal, then.”
Her mind snapped back into focus at that. “Lane…”
“No more talking, cupcake.” He shifted behind her and righted her clothes. When she turned to confront him, he pressed his slick fingers to her lips in a mock kiss. “Get rid of Isaiah. I’ll send you my account number so you can deposit the money. And I’ll be in touch.”
“But—”
“We’re done here.” With that, he walked out, leaving her there with a pounding heart, boneless legs, and a spinning brain. Something had dropped out of Lane’s pocket on the way out, but she didn’t have the energy to call out to him or to go over and pick it up. She sagged against the wall and ran a hand over her forehead, trying to get her mind back together.