I couldn’t.
“Thank you for letting me stay here.” That she knew I was watching came as a surprise, and when I didn’t reply, she turned to look over her shoulder and smiled at me.
To any other man, that wasn’t a siren’s song, but to me, it was. My own personal fucking torture.
God, the urge to take that smile away was ripe, and I was such a twisted fuck that the only way I could control myself was to hurt her. Verbally. To diminish her self-worth, to make her feel like shit.
What kind of a cunt did that?
Who made their woman feel that way?
The words burned on my tongue, evil and vile, but I wasn’t that man. If she was going to be my woman—not that she was aware of that yet—then I couldn’t treat her so badly.
I wanted her.
More than I wanted my next breath.
If I pushed her away, it would kill me.
And so, though it was one of the hardest things I’d ever done, I held my tongue and moved toward her, coming within a hairsbreadth of her body, and calmly said, “You’re welcome. But I’ve already told you that.”
She hummed under her breath and the sound made me wonder what that would feel like when she was sucking my cock.
She turned to look at the view once more. “I miss her,” she whispered.
“Mrs. Linden?”
“Yeah.”
I wanted to touch her, but didn’t dare. “That’s natural.” Christ, did I have to sound like such a fucking robot? I despaired for myself sometimes. I truly did.
Rubbing my forehead instead of reaching out to touch her, I amended, “I mean, the pain will go with time, but embrace it while it’s here.” I could tell that surprised her because she twisted to look at me.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that the pain is your love for her. It won’t die, it will only blossom with time as she becomes a part of your memories. But the pain and the love make them more deeply entrenched in your soul.”
Her eyes widened. “That’s a beautiful way to think of it, Nicholas.”
I shrugged. “Hardly.” Because I didn’t like the way she was looking at me, like I’d reinvented the wheel or something, I changed the subject and blurted out, “How was work?”
“Tiring.” She hung her head. “I’m tired of working nights but the money is beyond good. The tips were crazy tonight.” She fell silent then, her gaze turned out toward the city that brushed her with its lights. Painting her in colors that merely illuminated her beauty.
For a second, I was a sycophant.
Nothing more than a worshipper at a goddess’ altar as I breathed in the same cherished air as her.
“I need to start looking for somewhere else to live.”
The words were loaded with embarrassment, and though my immediate reaction was to snarl at her, I didn’t because I heard something in her voice—she liked it here, and was only making the suggestion because it was what people in her position did.
Phoebe, however, was unaware of her position. Her true position.
Without batting an eyelid, I murmured, “Spread your legs.”
She reared back as was her way when I surprised her, but when she caught my eye, she saw something in mine that had her cutting off her response.
When she licked her lips, I knew I had her.
Her weight pressed harder onto the railing as she parted her legs and shoved her butt in the air—a sight that turned my bones molten.
“Are you wearing panties?” I asked, turning my head so I could whisper the words into her ear. The second my breath touched her, she shuddered.
“No.”
“Good girl,” I praised, both surprised she’d taken my instructions and made them a rule but also enraged that she’d been at Crow, panty-less for the past few days, without my protection.
God, if any motherfucker dared touch her… I’d call Jay and ask him to have his bouncers tear the bastards a new one.
When a breath hiccupped from her lips, I could practically taste her excitement.
Whatever it was about me, about what I said or did to her, it made her hot. It fizzled in her core, enticing her as much as another man’s kiss might.
“Are you wet?”
“Y-Yes,” she moaned, her head dropping as though she couldn’t bear to carry the weight.
“Good.” I fell silent, content to let her suffer, content to let her stay there in that stasis of misery, a state I existed in perpetually because of her.
Hungry for her.
Ravenous for her taste, for her touch.
The sound of her overexcited breathing was like a caress to my cock, and my lips curved in a smirk as I stared over at Manhattan.
I could live there if I wanted, but I preferred Williamsburg. Preferred looking at the beehive than being a part of it, and I especially appreciated the seclusion of this balcony that allowed me to behold the magnificence of NYC, while tormenting the woman who tormented me with every breath she took, knowing that no one else could see her.
“P-Please, professor.”
At any other time, her failure to use my given name would have pissed me off. But now?
It fit.
I hadn’t thought it would.
Hadn’t imagined I’d like the reminder, but appreciate it I did.
“Please what?” I inquired coolly.
“L-Let me touch myself.”
Her words sent relief crashing through me. I might never be able to touch her, might never trust myself with her, and I’d feared the change in circumstances would make her think our unusual arrangement had changed too.
“Why?” I questioned, like I was asking her to defend a statement she’d made in my class.
And fuck if I wouldn’t be thinking about this the next time we were on campus.
“Because I need to come.”
“Do you deserve to come?” I queried.
She was quiet for a second. “I worked hard today, so yes.”
Finding myself amused by her retort, and well aware that my amusement laced my reply, I said, “Then, by all means, find your pleasure.”
A whimper of relief came from her parted lips, and I wanted to taste it so badly, that it took all I had not to make my move. Instead, in the city lights, I watched her lift her skirt with one hand, not stopping until she dragged it around her waist, and with her pussy bared to me and the terrace, she slipped her fingers between her thighs.
The second skin touched skin, she moaned, and I closed my eyes. The scent and power of her was so overbearing that I couldn’t stand to look at her for a second.
Her fingers moved fast, faster than usual, and she didn’t plunge them inside her pussy, didn’t fuck herself, just focused on her clit. She worked herself high, hard and fast, and just when she was about to come, I breathed in her ear, “Stop.”
I felt her temptation to disobey me, felt it, longed for her lack of obeisance, but instead, she paused, and as her fingers stopped, she mewled in distress.
“Suck them clean,” I ordered her, as I’d done many times before. “What do they taste like?”
“Salty. Sweet.” They were her usual answers. But she surprised me. “Need. Want. Desire.”
“Desire for what?”
She exhaled roughly. “You.”
The single word ignited fireworks in my soul. But she couldn’t have me. Not in that way.