“Fuck,” he grunts, and I can feel him. He comes deep inside my pussy, and I keep moving, working my hips, sliding along his length. I want him to come hard, and his hands dig into my flesh.
Finally, we collapse into the bed together. He wraps his arms around my body and pulls me tight against him, breathing into my hair.
“Fuck, girl,” he says softly. “You are my pet.”
“I am,” I say, nuzzling up against his chest. We’re naked and sweating and this is where I want to be, the perfect place to be. He holds me tight, and our breathing synchronizes.
I lose all sense of time with him there, and it’s perfect. We’re one together, floating in the post-sex haze of orgasm, and I can’t believe how content I feel.
I’ve never felt this way before, not with anybody. I don’t know how Ethan makes me feel this way, but he does, and it’s incredible. It’s also a little terrifying, but I’m not thinking about it too much. I don’t want to think about what happens after this month, or really about what happens five minutes from now. I just want to enjoy this moment, perfect and right and good. This is all I need or want.
17
Ethan
I breathe in her smell and feel like I’m going to pass out. I’m so tired, so exhausted, and I feel so content and comfortable lying in bed with her, still covered in sweat.
I didn’t plan this. Frankly, I didn’t know what I was going to do when I saw her. Part of me wanted to throw her out and never see her again, but I knew I couldn’t do that. Not really, not even in my deepest anger.
This issue with Richard isn’t going to go away, but it doesn’t matter. I can’t take it out on Aria. I never told her that we had to be subtle and quiet. I told her that I was going to spoil her and that she could do anything she wanted, more or less, and then I neglected her. I deserve what I’m getting, but I won’t make that same mistake twice. I won’t take this out on her, because she doesn’t deserve it.
I run my fingers down her back and she shivers. “That feels good,” she says softly.
“Yeah?” I softly rub her back. “What else feels good?”
“Everything,” she says, laughing, and looks up at me. “Why are you here?”
“Decided to take off work today.”
“Oh,” she says. “I’m glad you did.”
“Me too.” I laugh lightly. “I didn’t plan that, you know.”
“That’s okay,” she says. “I didn’t mind.”
“I’m sure you didn’t. But I’m usually more...”
“In control?” she finishes.
“Exactly. But with you, it’s different.”
“Why?” She sits up and looks at me, hair spilling down around us.
“I don’t know,” I say honestly.
She smiles and looks away. “That makes me happy, either way.”
“I want to get to know you.”
“What do you want to know?” she asks.
“Your childhood.”
“Not much to say.” She shrugs a little bit. “I grew up with my dad. Mom died when I was really young.”
“I’m sorry. That must have been hard.”
“Maybe. I don’t know. I never knew her. But I did know a string of nannies.”
I laugh softly. “You were rich?”
“My father is. When I ran away from home, I left all that.”
“Why did you leave?”
She frowns and lies back down in my arms. I wrap them around her and pull her tight against me.
“You’d understand if you knew my father. He’s a hard man to be around.”
“I know something about hard men.”
She glances up at me. “Was that a penis joke?”
“Not at all,” I say, laughing. “I have more tact and better timing than that.”
“Sure you do.” She looks skeptical and we laugh together. She lays her head back down on my chest. “Dad meant well I think, but he pushed really hard. He’s a little famous in the city, actually. I’d rather not say who he is, but that fame was part of it.”
“Part of what?” I ask softly.
“The pressure. To be perfect. He wanted me to take over his business one day, but I had no interest in it. And then when I ran away and got into drugs, that basically killed him. He disowned me, not exactly, but more or less. I don’t see or speak with him anymore. And I don’t want to.”
I grunt, understanding. I can see how having a father like that would be very, very difficult. I can also see why maybe she turned to drugs. It was a rebellious thing at first, but also a way to feel good. When you’re rich, it’s hard to really feel things, because everything is taken care of for you. Maybe she was trying to find a little bit of that, but went way too far.
“Do you ever want to see him again?” I ask.
“Not at all. He was... abusive,” she says.
“Abusive?”
She looks at me again. “I don’t want to be that cliché hooker with daddy issues, okay? It’s just, he didn’t hit me, but he tortured me. He was merciless and cutting, and I had to get out of there. So no, I don’t want to see him ever again.”
I kiss her softly on the forehead. “Thanks for telling me that,” I say.
“It’s weird. I haven’t talked about him in a while.”
I smile and kiss her again. “I’m happy you feel comfortable talking about it with me.”
“You’re supposed to be a client...” She trails off, shaking her head.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not supposed to tell you this stuff. The Syndicate, they gave us some, I don’t know, training. I’m supposed to be mysterious and alluring for you.” She laughs lightly. “How am I doing?”
“Perfect,” I say. “You’re perfect.”
“My last name is Taylor,” she says. “I don’t know why I wanted you to know that. I just did, I guess.”
I grin ear to ear, and have no clue why that makes me so happy. I kiss her again, not sure what else to do, and hold her tight.
I want to know her, and having her open up to me makes me happier than I would have guessed. It’s strange, sharing this sort of intimacy with someone that I supposedly own, but I don’t feel like I own her. Not right now, at least.
Her guard is down and I believe everything she’s saying. I believe that she feels something, maybe something like what I feel, although I’m not exactly sure what that is yet. I believe she’s a good person and wants to do right.
And I know I’ve seduced her. All of that, it was real. She wanted it as much as I did, if not more. She wanted me to fuck her and to make her come and she would have done it, money or no money.
I should feel good that I won my game, but I don’t.
I just feel like there’s another game coming, and this one might be even better.
18
Aria
”Play it again.”
In my dream, he stands over me like a phantom. His eyes are a furious red like I always imagined them to be, though I know they’re really just brown. His brows knit as I raise the violin to my chin again and prepare to play it all over.