“Why are you so obsessed with the beach, Bristol?”
“Because—” He hooks his fingers, and I almost die right there on the conference table. “Because my mom told me a story about a beach vacation she took. She was in college. Before—before I was born. And she loved it. She bought a postcard there—” His fingers are too skilled. They make me stutter and gasp. “—and she kept it for a long time. We were supposed to go together, but we didn’t.”
“Why?”
“Because…”
“Give me what I want, Ms. Anderson.”
“Because she died.”
The words feel like a shout. His fingers have gone still again, and I can’t think.
“When did she die?” His voice sounds a little softer. Not quite gentle, but not angry, either. There’s a shared sadness. Reciprocal, like he knows. But he’s never said a word about his mother.
And the one time I mentioned her—
“Tell me.”
“When I was ten. We left Arizona a couple years after that, when the twins were…” I try to do the math. It’s harder than I thought at a moment like this. “They were about two.”
“For where?”
“I don’t remember.” There were crying toddlers and empty gas tanks and cheap hotels. Apartments that seemed to fall apart around us. The next big thing was always just around the corner. “We went east. And kept going.”
Will slides his fingers out of me, and I bite back a wail. I just want contact with him. I just want to come. I just want to stop talking about all of this. What good will it do?
I hear his zipper.
Then his big palms spread me another inch wider, and his tip presses against me.
“Keep talking. Keep talking while I fuck you like the corporate whore you are.”
One tear slides down my cheek. He’s not hurting me. Iwantthis. But it doesn’t make sense. If he doesn’t care to know, why make me tell him these things? Why make it so good?
“Will.”
“It’s Mr. Leblanc when we’re in the office. Mr. Leblanc when I’m fucking you over the conference table. Mr. Leblanc when I’m blackmailing you. Now tell me what happened next.”
“We crossed the country while my dad looked for work.”
Will pushes himself inside me, slow and relentless. The size of him steals my breath. “He didn’t find any work, did he? He didn’t want regular work. He wanted to steal from people. Like you.”
“Yes, he—” No more room. Will bottoms out with a shiver. His teeth click together, but his eyes stay on mine. It’s a cold, distant blue. “We would leave town before they started to catch on. Or after they came to beat him up.”
“And what didyoudo?”
“Went to school. Took care of the twins. Tried to keep things packed up for when—” He’s chosen his rhythm now. Harder strokes than I expected but it feels so good. The pad of his thumb teases at my clit. “For when we’d have to leave again.”
“Were you alone, Ms. Anderson? You didn’t have a big brother to protect you?”
It’s bitter, when he says it like that, but I can’t understand. The photo he keeps on his shelf is a happy one. Then again, maybe I can’t think because I’m being fucked on a conference table.
“My brother is older.” His thumb adds real pressure, and I feel myself clench around him. Will lets out a sharp breath. “He joined the military when he was eighteen. He wasn’t there.”
“You took care of yourself.”
“Me. The twins. My dad. That’s all I’ve done. I thought—” Pleasure builds. He’s going to make me come on his cock, spread out like a corporate whore on a conference table.