Page 53

Twenty-seven
Conner
Sirens are wailing. Bells are clanging. Horns areblaring. Warnings, all of them, and I don’t heed a single one.
I shut down the part of me that is outraged. The part of me who still likes to believe that I’m a halfway decent person when it comes to the way I treat women. I mean, I’m up-front. I don’t make promises I know I won’t keep. I practice safe sex. I give as good as I get. Most times, better.
Usually, that matters to me. Makes me feel better about the way I live my life.
Right now, all I can think is that Henley just offered to pay me to fuck her. Because obviously, she thinks I’m the kind of guy who would accept an offer like that.
Knowing that hurts so much I’m having a hard time breathing.
I let my gaze roam her face, looking for something to anchor it to. Something recognizable that I can cling to. Use to ground myself. Remind myself that this is Henley.
This is Henley, and I absolutely cannot do what I want to do.
Not to her.
“He knows you’re here, asking your ex-boyfriend to fuck you for money?” I’m trying to shock her, pull her out of whatever downward spiral she’s in that brought her here. If I can right her, I can send her on her way, and I can get busy pretending this never happened.
“He knows I’m here.” She says it softly, nodding her head. “It was his idea.”
I made an odd noise in the back of my throat—half laugh, half snarl. “I bet it was—in my experience, old money types love their kink.” Taking a step toward her, it pushes her back, and she retreats until her shoulders are pressed against the wheel well of the Chevy. Her gaze drifts up to my chin, and that blush of hers spills down her neck, disappearing beneath the collar of pearls around her throat. “As tempting as your offer sounds, I’m not into cuckolding. I don’t do other men’s—”
“I know what it means, Conner.” She forces herself to look me in the eye. “And that’s not what this is.” She swallows hard, the tip of her tongue darting out to wet her lips. “We don’t—Jeremy and I aren’t...” She’s flustered again, her explanation getting tangled and she loses her nerve, breaking eye contact.
“Aren’t what?” I say, letting my gaze rake across her breasts, her tight nipples pushed against the pale pink of her blouse. “Exclusive?” Thinking about her with that Jeremy asshole was bad enough. Thinking about her with multiple men…
Instead of doing the smart thing, keeping my distance and demanding an explanation, I make the mistake of stepping closer. She’s always done that to me. Made it impossible for me to think clearly.
I can feel her breath, warm and uneven, against my neck. The push of her breasts, nipples stiff against my chest.
She puts a hand up placing it on my chest like she’s trying to keep me at bay. “Intimate,” she says softly, her gaze creeping up my neck to settle on my mouth. “Jeremy and I don’t have a physical relationship. We’re friends. Nothing more.” She shakes her head, catching her lip between her teeth, brow furrowed. “That’s why I’m here. Why I wanted—”
Reaching up, I wrap my fingers around hers. “I don’t think you know what you’re saying,” I tell her, my fingers shifting across hers to wrap around her wrist, guiding it downward, a slow trail over my pecs and abs. “And I’m fairly certain you have no idea what you want.” I turn her hand and press the palm of it against the hard length of my cock while my other hand reaches past her to grip the side of the truck I’ve got her pinned against. “I think as soon as this Girls Gone Wild phase of yours wears off—” I whisper in her ear as I stroke myself with her hand, and I have to clamp my teeth together to keep myself from groaning out loud. “—you’re going to regret coming here. Because what happened last night—me bending you over that desk. Ripping off your panties. Fucking you from behind. Making you come until you could barely stand—that was me on an off night. You start this thing with me, I’m going to do things to you, Daisy. Filthy, bad things that you’re not ready for.”
I’m trying to scare her. Get her to save us both and run before I do something I can’t take back.
Too late.
And since when do I care?
Since you screwed up and fucked the one girl on the planet, you should’ve never been allowed to have.
She doesn’t scare, and she doesn’t run. I forgot how stubborn she is. How determined she can be when it comes to getting what she wants.
“I wanted it to be you, Conner,” she says, tilting her head to press her lips against my jaw. “I always wanted it to be you. I never stopped wanting it to be you.” Her fingers wrap around the shaft of my cock and that groan I had on lockdown breaks free. “I planned it.” She strokes me again, her thumb brushing across the head of my cock while the other one pushes itself under my shirt to skate its fingers along my stomach. “I knew exactly what I was doing when I went looking for you last night…” Even through my jeans, the combination of her confession and the feel of her hands on me is enough to push me to the verge of coming. “I wanted it to happen. I made it happen.”
I jerk her hands away a second before both of mine dart under her skirt to streak up the length of her bare thighs. I feel her panties, the wide band of lace slung around her hips. The thinner one, snug against her wet pussy. I remember how flimsy they are. How easily they came apart in my hands. How easy it would be for me to have her, right here against the side of this truck.
Gripping her lace-covered ass, I lift her, hooking my hands into the crook of her knees while spreading her thighs, so I can grind my cock into the cleft of them. I hear her thousand-dollar pumps hit my grease-stained garage floor a moment before her ankles lock around my hips, her bare heels digging into my denim-covered ass, “I want to come for you, Conner,” she whispers, in my ear. Urging me to keep cock-stroking her, tilting her hips so that my hard-on hits her clit just right. “Make me come for you.”
I lower my head, groaning against her neck, my hips pistoning against her, my rigid cock straining against the zipper of my jeans. She threads her fingers through my hair, lifting her jaw to offer me her throat. Her legs tighten around my waist, her knees falling wide, hips rocking against me. The friction between us, so sweet and hot I can feel an orgasm barreling down on me, tightening the small of my back. My balls. The head of my cock. Jesus Christ, I’m going to—
The blare of a passing car horn finds me. Reminds me who I am and what I’m doing.
Who I’m doing it to.