He grabbed something next to me, and I flinched. His gaze softened. “It’s all right, Your Highness. I’m just getting a condom. See?”
I looked down, watched as he tugged a foil packet from his jeans. Shakily, I nodded.
He tore it open, his gaze locked on my face as I went back to staring at his penis, the thick, swollen length, the rounded, blunt head. “If you keep staring at me like that, I just might come all over meself,” he said, wry amusement in his voice.
“I’m sure I’m not the first woman who has ever stared at your…” I flicked a glance up at him.
“Say it.” Hunger blazed in his eyes. “I want to hear you say it, Your Highness.”
“Your cock.” My gaze dropped back down. A queer noise echoed in the air, and I realized it was me. I was whimpering, a drugged, demanding little sound, all because he had wrapped his hand around his length and was stroking himself through the latex shield.
“Would y’like to touch me like this?” he asked.
Without letting myself think, I nodded.
He came back to me and caught my hand, guiding it to him.
I could feel him under the slick shield of the rubber. Doubt and fear tried to well up, but I shoved it all aside.
I wanted to feel him, wanted to feel all of him and all of this. Gripping him tightly, I stroked my hand down, then up. He was thick, and even through the latex he was hot. I squeezed him a little tighter as I dragged my hand up and down, then I did it again and again, unable to look away as I caressed him.
“You think this is a typical thing, Ella,” he said, his mouth to my ear. “But I don’t think you have any idea what it does to me, the way you stare at me, half-afraid, all aroused, so full of need … It’s gutting me.”
“Sean…?”
He kissed me then, a deep, hungry kiss that was far rougher than any he’d ever given me. I cried out against his lips and then did it again, because he’d just pushed two fingers inside me.
He used them to tease me right to the edge, and then he stopped, grabbing my wrist and wrenching it away from his cock. His breath came out of him in hungry pants. “Tell me now … Do you want me to fuck you tonight, or are you not ready yet?”
Terror was a song inside me. But so was need.
He still held one wrist, so I reached up with my free hand and caught the back of his neck. “I’m not ready … but if you don’t, I think I’m going to die.”
“Ella…” He rasped out my name before he kissed me again, slower this time, softer, with such sweetness I felt tears stinging my eyes. He boosted me up into his arms. “Hold on to me, love.”
I did and stared at him as he carried me over to the dining table.
The wood was good against my hips, but when I went to lie down, he stopped me. “No. Sit up. I want to feel you against me, but I don’t want ya feeling trapped under me.”
My mind started to wheel away, and he caught my face, kissed me with an edgy roughness, drawing me back to him. “Think of me, think of me … only me.”
Then he spread my thighs. Awkwardly, I shifted, and he guided me, bringing one knee to his hip, opening me. The head of his cock brushed against me, and the shock of it, the heat of it, the pleasure of it had me shivering.
“I’m going to come inside you now.”
I nodded jerkily, nerves coming on me in a flood.
He kissed them away, and I was so caught up in the feel of his mouth on mine, I didn’t think to tense up until I felt him nudging against me. I froze. His hand slid between us, and I jolted as he began to circle his thumb around my clitoris.
“You’re wet for me, Your Highness. All wet and slick and ready … yeah, tha’s it … relax…”
The rhythm of his voice lulled me, and my head fell back as he started to ease in.
“You’re … fuck me, you’re tight, Ella.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t … oh, fuck…” His hand came back to my knee, gripping it as he pulled me open wider.
I gasped as he started stretched me. It started to burn. Then it started to hurt.
I whimpered in pain when Sean pulled out and began to surge back in, deeper this time.
I cried out.
He froze.
His hand came to my face. I’d buried myself against his chest and fought him, but he was determined.
Sweat gleamed on his body, and his face was flushed, his pupils so large just a thin sliver of icy gray showed around the rim. “Ella…” His voice was a low, rough growl now, and his body trembled. “Ella, fuck me … are you a bloody virgin?”
I locked my jaw.
He swore, shoving his hand into my hair, tugging my face back to his when I tried to look away. “Answer me!”
“What does it matter?” I demanded. He wasn’t even halfway inside me, and it still hurt. But something about the way he watched me did more to obliterate my fear than anything else could. I wrapped my ankles around his hips and used the strength of my lower body to join us.
He swore, he groaned. Pain sliced through me, but beyond that, I felt … I couldn’t describe it. I wiggled against him and tried to move, tried to deepen the connection.
“Fuck me,” Sean muttered.
“I’m trying.”
He managed a pained laugh. “No … I … damn it, Ella. I wasn’t prepared for … Just be still.”
“I don’t want—”
He kissed me and said against my lips, “Be still. After all, I am the professional here.”
Because it still hurt, because I couldn’t find the right way to move, I sagged in defeat. He caught my shoulders and eased me until I was stretched out beneath him. “I won’t cover you,” he said, his jaw tight. “Just … lie there. Let me make this good for you.”
I shuddered as he pulled out, but when I would have protested, all he did was drag my hips closer to the edge and then move back against me. “Wrap your legs around me again,” he said, the head of his cock brushing against me.
I pulsed and throbbed, although it was just as much with pain now as anything else. Slowly, I did as he asked and braced myself as he came inside me.
It hurt, still.
But then he shifted, and I gasped, staring up at him.
He planted one hand beside my head, all of his weight centered between his hips and that one hand and the feet he still had braced on the floor. He moved, circling his hips against the cradle of mine, and pleasure lashed at me. I whimpered.
“I’m going to make you come, Your Highness,” Sean said.
And then he began to surge against me, slow, steady thrusts that brought equal amounts of pain and pleasure at first … and then less pain and more pleasure … and then only pleasure … and then I was straining against him and crying out his name and begging for more.
He did as he promised. He made me come, and it was hard and fast and painfully glorious.
Chapter 3
“No, Mr. Kent.” Stacia rolled her eyes at me as I sipped from the cappuccino she’d brought in just moments ago. She spoke with calm efficiency into the phone, striding to her desk tucked up against the wall near the door and grabbing something.
From my desk, I watched as she started to make notes. “Mr. Kent, I will give her the message, but her schedule is full this week … today? No. I’m afraid there’s no opening for her to speak with you today.”
I grimaced at her over the coffee cup and mouthed, Not next year either.
I don’t know if she understood what I’d said, but she got the general idea.
Seriously, Kent was the last man I wanted to deal with—today or ever. I’d been happily reliving last night with Sean and would have been content to just think about the short few minutes I’d had in his arms before I’d forced myself to roll away and get out of the bed.
His fingers had trailed through my hair as I sat there, and I’d looked back at him, awkward and uncertain about how to handle the next few moments.
Sean hadn’t had such a problem.
H
e’d sat up behind me and kissed me easily, stroking his hands down my arms as he held me for a moment.
Then he’d gotten out of bed and tugged me up into the shower.
I couldn’t have called that brief interlude businesslike—it wouldn’t be possible to describe Sean’s hands rubbing over my wet body as businesslike—but there were no teasing, playful touches, or wicked jokes.
He’d kissed me when it was done, then showered quickly.
Then it was just … over.
He left with another quick kiss and told me he’d call soon.
It wouldn’t be soon enough, yet at the same time, I dreaded it.
It was moving too quickly.
Stacia’s voice drew me back to the present, and I scowled as I listened to the one-sided conversation.
“Sir, I will speak with her and let her know about your proposal, but she is, after all, the boss. I can’t make any promises. Now … you have a lovely day and enjoy the nice weather while we have it.” She hung up the next second and slid her phone into the small pocket on her blazer. “Shall I set up a lunch meeting for next week?”
“In hell.”
For a moment, Stacia just stared at me. Then she started to laugh. “Shall I pass that on to Mr. Kent?”
I was tempted to tell her yes. But I shook my head. “We should try more diplomacy first.” Then I studied the schedule on the monitor of my computer. “We’re supposed to be meeting with somebody from the hospital soon, aren’t we?”
“Thursday. It’s on there, Ms. Cruise.”
I hesitated and then said, “Stacia, would you please call me Ella?”
“Ah…”
“Please.” I managed a weak smile. “I realize it might be inappropriate—”
“No.” She came to my desk, and I surprised myself by not tensing when she touched my arm. “It’s just … can I be honest … Ella?”
“Of course.” I always encouraged honesty with my employees, especially with admins like Stacia, although I’d never had one as efficient as her, or one I enjoyed working with quite so much.
“I just would like to say, whoever he is … I think he’s good for you.”
That was the last thing I’d expected. My hand shook slightly as I lowered the cappuccino to my desk. “Excuse me?”
Stacia smiled. “Ella, you’re seeing somebody. I know that look in your eyes.” She laughed easily.
I envied the ease with which she showed emotion and looked away so she wouldn’t see how easily I didn’t show it.
“I fall in and out of love all the time—it’s never the big L, you know. But I can tell when a friend…”
In love.
My gaze shot to her face. She smiled, but it wasn’t as reassuring as she probably hoped.
Carefully, I blanked my features.
“Are we friends?” I cocked my head. “Can we be friends?”
“Do you want to be?”
“I don’t have many friends,” I said slowly. There was Sasha. I sometimes visited her at Tilt Stop, the bar where she worked and where I’d met Sean. There were people who worked for me at the house that I considered friends. Family, even. Like Paul, my driver. They were the closest thing I had to family, really. But if I had to count my actual friends? I could do it on one hand.
And one of them?
I’d have to count Sean, the man I was paying to sleep with me.
I needed another friend.
In an echo of my thoughts, Stacia said, “You need more friends then, Ella. I’d be honored to be one.”
“I’d like that,” I said, feeling foolish over the formality of it. But friends were a new thing for me. Talking to people outside of the realm of business was a new thing for me.
“Okay.” Stacia leaned her hips against my desk, some of the professionalism melting away as she studied me. “Now, as your friend, I want to say again … this guy you’re involved with, whoever he is? He’s good for you.”
“I think he is, too.” I didn’t let myself think about how much it was going to hurt when it ended. It would end. There was no other option. But I was no stranger to pain, and at least when our relationship was over, I’d walk away the richer for it.
Not in any sort of monetary way. But with something money could never buy: memories.
Stacia moved away, talking about the upcoming day’s schedule, but I was frowning.
I was wrong.
Money had bought the things I had now, I realized.
Sean was giving me all sorts of memories because I’d paid him.
I was fine with that, really. After all, it had been my idea.
But what would it have been like to have him there because he’d chosen to be there?
Don’t be stupid, I told myself. This was a business arrangement and nothing more.
Besides, Sean was a prostitute—and quite a professional at that. He even seemed to enjoy it.
It was a stupid thought. A stupid fantasy.
* * *
“As you can see, Ms. Cruise, our children’s department here is run by those who truly do love children…”
I tuned out his voice. The hospital CEO’s name was Edward Hall and he was perfectly polite, perfectly friendly, and perfectly professional. He’d held my hand for the perfect length of time when we’d greeted each other, and he’d given me the perfect amount of information.
He was also perfectly dull.
But that didn’t matter.
I didn’t need his information to make my decision. I just needed my own eyes.
The people here did enjoy working with children, and children … well, I didn’t have to guard myself around them. Children were safe.
Just as that thought circled through my mind, a girl came stumbling out of the nearest room and all but crashed into me.
Petite and pale, the teenaged girl was off-balance, and I barely managed to keep us both from falling when she started to go down. Steadying her with an arm around her waist, I almost asked if she was well—and what a stupid question that would have been—when we were interrupted.
“Darla, get back in here … oh, ma’am, I’m very sorry…” A heavyset woman stood in front of me, her gaze flicking from me to the girl. She held out a hand to the girl.
Darla, I assumed.
“Come on,” the woman said. “We need to talk about this. Running away won’t help.”
The girl was shaking, and she kept her face averted so I couldn’t see her eyes.
It was instinct that drove me to it. One thing I did understand was the helpless feeling of being caged, trapped. Ignoring the woman in front of me, I looked down at the girl. She had a scarf wrapped around her head, and her cheeks were hollow. Soft misty eyes met mine, and she tried to wrench away. She might as well have been a sparrow for all the strength she had. “Hello … Darla, right?”
She curled her lip at me.
I just smiled and shifted my grip her waist to her hand, taking it in mine. “Do you know your way around this place? I need a tour.”
Everybody went quiet.
Darla scowled at me. Then she jerked a shoulder. “I know it well enough. Been here too long.” She glared at the woman. “I can’t fucking wait to leave.”
“Excellent. You can show me around, and these fine people can get to work.”
“I don’t think—”
Shooting Edward Hall a narrow look, I said, “I’d like to speak with the patients, too. Assuming Darla doesn’t mind?”
“There’s confidentiality to consider.” Edward looked pained.
“Then I can ask her parents.” I looked over at the woman, although I already knew this woman wasn’t the girl’s mother.
“She’s not my mom.” She raked a scathing look over the woman. “She’s a social worker here at the hospital. She’s ready to throw me out. Fine. I’ll leave. Right after I show the lady around.”
“Darla, that isn’t…”
I pinned the social worker with a hard stare. “Well. Darla, why don’t we get you a whe
elchair? One thing I must see is the cafeteria. I’m famished.”
“But … but…”
Smiling blithely at the social worker, I arched my brows. I was likely violating some sort of law—I’d agreed to abide by any number of laws pertaining to patient confidentiality when I first started visiting. I was here often, discussing the donations I wished to make, so I’d been versed on those matters regarding confidentiality rather well, although they were all a jumble in my head.
Talking to a minor without having a parent around probably conflicted with those laws.
I didn’t care.
The worst they could do was fine me, and it wasn’t like I didn’t have the money. I had no plans to take Darla out of there, but the angry vulnerability I saw in her eyes called to me.
It reminded me so much of … me.
With my arm around her waist to steady her, I said, “Come on, then. I can’t say I’m in hospitals too much, but one thing I know is that they usually have a grill, and where there’s a grill, there are french fries.”
* * *
Darla was angry.
I couldn’t say I blamed her.
She had leukemia, she’d had a terrible mother, and from what it sounded like, whatever family she did have left either didn’t want her or couldn’t take care of her.
When I’d delicately tried to press, she’d shut down.
In the end, I supposed it didn’t matter.
What mattered was that she was sick and a ward of the state.
That sucked.
“They can’t keep me here.” She glared at me over the rim of her gallon-sized soft drink. Okay, perhaps it wasn’t really gallon-sized. It just looked that way.
“If you mean to run away…” Hesitantly feeling my way around this, I smiled at her.
“No. I mean, they can’t.” Then she jerked a shoulder in a shrug. “Or maybe the right word is that they won’t keep me here. There are other hospitals. Cheaper ones, or ones that don’t care about whether I have money or not.” She puckered up her mouth as she said it, wrinkling her nose, and I had a feeling I knew exactly who she was mocking.
“Your social worker was that obvious?” I said calmly.
“Nah.” She lifted a skinny shoulder and hitched up her robe when it started to fall off. “She was decent enough about it, but I know the drill. I’m some homeless brat with no parents, no money…”
Thirty Nights with a Dirty Boy: Part 2: A Heroes and Heartbreakers Serial Page 2
