If I’m so happy about that, why are my fingers inching downward, sliding between my widening legs? Normally when I fall into bed, I crash hard. Training will do that to you, but I suspect I’m not going to get any sleep tonight until I take the edge off, and not even sure if I can with my fingers, but dammit, I’m sure going to try.
I let my knees fall open, and slide my finger over my clit. I imagine it’s Christian’s hand between my legs, his mouth working the nub that’s swelling beneath the pad of my finger. I groan and envision him in his bed right now, his cock in his hand as he strokes himself while he pictures me on my knees, his cock in my mouth. I rub myself harder, my mind on an erotic journey like never before. I’ve fantasized a time or two, but tonight the vision behind my eyes is vivid, real. Maybe it had something to do with the way he held me down the other day, or the way he looked at me tonight. I swear to God there was something that resembled hunger in his eyes. I slide a finger into my body and crush my clit beneath the heel of my hand, and just like that, a powerful orgasm grips me hard, and I try to stifle a moan as I grow slicker between my legs.
I stay like that until the spasms stop. I go quiet as wind picks up outside, beating against the old house and rattling the windows. I try to breathe, to refill my collapsed lungs as I revel in the post-orgasm bliss. My God, I have never, in my entire life, climaxed so fast or so hard. What is going on with my body?
Maybe it just really wants to be touched by Christian.
No, no, no. I hate him, but that doesn’t mean I can’t admire a work of art when I see it, right? Still, I’m not going to sleep with him. This exchange is me helping him, and him paying for it. It can’t be about anything else. When I can finally move again, I grab a few tissues, clean myself up, and fall into a restless sleep filled with dreams of Christian.
My alarm goes off, and I peel one eye open, and when thoughts of seeing Christian this morning race through my sleep-deprived brain, I sit up, wishing I wasn’t quite so excited. I push to my feet, the stupid boot heavy and awkward as I grab my robe and throw it over my shoulders. I can’t wait until I no longer have to wear the boot while sleeping.
My roommates are still asleep, although I don’t know how with the rain pelting against the window. I glance at the rotten wood around my window, wet from the downpour. I can’t even imagine the mold we’re all breathing in on a daily basis, living in this run-down place, but it’s all we can afford and our landlord is a deadbeat. My gaze lifts to the gray and dreary sky and the need to go for a long run physically pulls at me. I can feel it deep in my gut. But I can’t run, and the only way I can pay my bills is to get my ass over to Christian’s and cook breakfast for him, which is ridiculous. But far better than sleeping with him. Right?
My thoughts go to my mother and my stomach tightens. What would she think if she knew I was basically a sugar baby, minus the sex? I don’t know and I can’t think about that. All I know is I have to do what I have to do to get to where I want in this world. It’s a means to an end that will help me become a lawyer, so I can use my knowledge to help others.
Just focus on that, girl, and you’ll be just fine.
I tug off my robe and nighty and remove my boot. I shower quickly and once done, I pull on my underthings, my favorite yoga pants, T-shirt and a light raincoat, then put my boot back on and cover it with a plastic bag. I snatch up my purse, but the second I open the door and step out onto the stoop, and find Christian walking toward me with that sexy swagger that squeezes my damn ovaries, I know in an instant, I’m not going to be just fine.
Not going to be just fine at all.
6
Christian
I catch the way her eyes widen, and her mouth drops open, but before she can say anything, I hurry up to her and put my umbrella over her head to keep her dry. Dark brown eyes narrow to slits as she looks up at me, a mixture of anger, and perhaps pleasure on her face.
Her ponytail swishes as she turns toward my vehicle, then zeroes in on me again. “What…what are you doing here?”
I shrug and even though it’s obvious, I say, “It’s raining, and you’re in a boot. I didn’t want you to get wet.”
As soon as the word wet leaves my lips, her cheeks flush with color, and my cock thickens, because it has its own ideas regarding Maize getting wet. Lots of ideas played out in my head last night—none of them PG—forcing me to take my cock into my hand as I pictured it deep in her throat, her pretty pink lips wrapped tight around my girth. Did she touch herself, and think of me? I snort, because if she was
