Page 2 of His Trick

She descended the stairs with a predator’s confidence that reminded me of my dad’s, but she looked like my mom. Her heels were tapping like a countdown to something I already fucking hated.

I stood still, awkwardly shuffling from foot to foot. I tried to focus on my breathing, but when she got closer, those damn straps fell further, showing skin.

Focus!

“Of course,” I said, setting the wine on the small table by the door.

She moved like gravity tilted her head toward me, and too quickly to track until she was in front of me. Before I could step back, her fingers were in my space.

She touched my chest, wispy fingers scratching beneath the stuffy white fabric, making my gut flinch.

I had to portray perfection for the task, but inside I burned.

My lungs stalled for a minute while she explored under my shirt, poking my abs and trailing those spiky nails over my nipples.

My mind glitched, the sensation making me nauseous.

The world narrowed to a pinpoint of sensation of those damn nails dragging lightly over my skin, her breath warm in my face, mingling with her overwhelming perfume. It was all invasive. My instincts short-circuited, my hands going forward and locking her wrists of their own accord.

Move away.

Shove her.

Step back.

Do something.

But I couldn’t.

Every muscle locked to keep her from noticing how badly I wanted to recoil. My throat bobbed with a swallow I hoped she didn’t see. My voice when it finally scraped out of my damn throat was too soft, too compliant to her hissed words.

“Yes. What a nice package. I’ll be happy with this purchase. I can tell already.”

“Ma’am…don’t,” I tried, but she had me caged in the corner, using her mouth to lunge for me even with her arms locked behind her.

“None of that ma’am shit, boy. And no arresting me. My husband is a cop, I don’t need that prick popping in my mind.”

I released her wrists with an unsteady breath, eyeing her, unsure what she was going to do next.

She smiled like she’d won a game I didn’t know we were playing.

“There it is,” she whispered, sliding her hand to my collarbone and leaving a sloppy kiss there. Her lipstick felt like wet chalk, stuck to my skin, and the burn intensified. “That little freeze is so cute. Men like you always pretend they’re so innocent. Is this the virgin act? Must be a premium because you are so good already, darling.”

I should’ve pulled away from her.

Instead, my body leaned the smallest bit forward, her hands leading me like a puppet.

I was a fucking deer in headlights.

This was what my father meant by entertain her. I was a fucking whore.

I locked my jaw, spinning the bitch around to face the end table, and forced her to hold onto the table instead of me. My reactions were awkward, automatic…shameful. This was pure instinct to appease danger, so it didn’t bite me instead. My palms went clammy on her skin as she yanked the robe off to reveal her aged body.

My spine went rigid. Seeing naked women wasn’t new for me. My mom’s saggy tits weren’t much different, and my sister was a younger version of this, without all the fake plastic injected to create the illusion of youth.

I had never touched anyone, though. I didn’t want to. It all just felt too painful. Her hands gripped my dick through my suit pants, and I hissed from the overstimulation it caused.

“Let go,” I said, but the words were wrong, too gentle, not even close to a command. It sounded more like I’d asked a question.