His Read online

  Me. Pushed down to the bed by a woman. It’s never happened. I’m the one who issues the orders in bed, not the one who takes them. But what Quinn wants from me, she’ll get.

  She bites her lower lip for just a second. I’m reaching for her small but absolutely perfect breasts when she shakes her head, smiles, and slides off of me.

  My groan of frustration morphs into something else as she unfastens my pants. She pulls them off, boxer briefs and all, and I frantically unbutton the dress shirt I’m wearing and work my way out of it.

  She wraps her hand around the base of my erection, and holy hell, does it feel amazing. I let out a choked sound of surprised satisfaction as she slowly strokes me.

  “Feels good?” she asks softly.

  “Fuck . . . yes,” I manage.

  She leans down, and as her pink lips get closer to my cock, I close my eyes. Hell. Just the sight of her could make me come. Her tongue is soft as she runs it tentatively around the head of my cock.

  I’m breathing hard, gripping the bedsheets and struggling to keep control. I’ve never felt so undone by a woman. She wants me—wants this, and that’s just as hot as the feel of her sweet mouth on me.

  She takes as much of me as she can, licking and sucking and stroking. I can tell from how slow she goes that she’s inexperienced, and fuck if that doesn’t turn me on, too. Just knowing she wants to please me is all it takes.

  “Ah, fuck . . .” I say through gritted teeth. “I’m gonna come.”

  She doesn’t stop, and within a few seconds, I come in her mouth, her eyes widening as she tastes it. Her lips glisten as she pulls away and gives me a questioning look.

  “Baby,” I say, running a hand over her hip and around to her back. “That was incredible and . . . completely unexpected.”

  She smiles. I sit up and kiss her softly.

  “Now lie down on your back,” I say.

  She opens her mouth to protest, but I quiet her with a finger over her lips. “Just do it.”

  No way can I let her go sleep without feeling what I just did. I don’t like that she made me come first, and I plan to make up for it.

  I unfasten her jeans and slide them off. Her lacy black panties are so sexy against her creamy white skin. I take my time licking the lace hems of them and kissing her thighs.

  I note all the spots I kiss that make her moan softly. Inner ankles and inner thighs are her favorites. When I hook my fingers through the sides of her panties and slide them down, she closes her legs.

  “Relax,” I say softly.

  “I haven’t gotten waxed.” Her voice is a low, embarrassed whisper.

  I look at the dark blond curls between her legs and smile. “You look perfect.”

  “Really?”

  “Very sexy. Now open your legs for me.”

  She does, and I stay on my knees, my eyes locked with hers.

  “How does it feel, opening your legs when I tell you to?” I ask.

  Her nipples are pebbled, and her chest rises and falls with her heavy breathing. “It feels . . . good.”

  “I’ll never make you feel anything but good,” I promise.

  She gives me a lazy smile.

  “I want you to flatten your hands and circle your palms gently over your nipples,” I say, my cock rock hard once again.

  Uncertainty only flashes across her face for an instant before she complies, her lips parting as she begins touching herself.

  I can’t help wrapping a hand around my renewed erection and pumping it a few times as I watch her. Damn, is she hot. I’ve never imagined being driven this crazy by a woman.

  “Now pinch your nipples,” I say. “Squeeze them between your thumb and forefinger.”

  She does, and I pump my cock a few more times as she moans loudly.

  “Pinch harder,” I tell her.

  When she does, her hips arch off the bed.

  “Keep doing it,” I say, bending down.

  I’ve teased her enough. I slide my tongue into her glistening pussy, and she gasps loudly. I suck on her clit and slide a finger into her.

  Oh, hell. She’s tight. I pump my dick a few times with my free hand, imagining what it will feel like to be inside her.

  Her hips are rotating, and she’s breathing so hard. I push another finger in and suck harder. She cries out my name, and I feel her coming against my tongue. The sound of her saying my name does me in, and I come again, too.

  When her hips fall back to the bed, she’s still panting.

  “Wow,” is all she says.

  “Tell me you liked it.”

  “Couldn’t you tell?” she asks with a light laugh.

  “Tell me anyway.” I lie down on my side next to her.

  “I loved it.”

  “What did you love?”

  She gives me a confused look. I weave my fingers through hers.

  “I want to hear you say you loved me eating your pussy.”

  She blushes. “I loved you . . . eating my pussy, Andrew.”

  “I love the taste of you. I love tasting you when you’re coming. You taste so fucking good, baby.”

  “You do, too.”

  My cock twitches. I want more of her. But not tonight. The moment feels too perfect to mess with.

  “You care if we sleep naked?” I ask her.

  “Not at all,” she says, yawning.

  I kiss her one more time before we settle in away from the wet spot, her back to my chest. I pull the covers over us, feeling a rare moment of complete contentment.

  Quinn

  I’m running. It feels more like flying, because my feet hardly touch the ground. I’m holding Bethy’s hand, and she’s flying behind me. There’s a whooshing sound pounding through my head and the knowledge that whether I can see him or not, he is right behind us.

  Run all you want. There’s no escaping me.

  He doesn’t say it, but I feel it. There’s no escaping. I run faster but am hit with a sick realization.

  My hand isn’t holding on to anything. Bethy’s not there anymore.

  With a horrified scream, I stop. I’m searching for her all around, but there’s nothing but blackness.

  “Bethy! Bethy, where are you? Bethy!” My throat burns with the force of my cries.

  “Hey, it’s okay,” a deep, soft voice says. “Quinn, you’re okay.”

  I suck in a breath and throw the covers away. My heart is pounding wildly.

  “What?” I ask, feeling disoriented.

  “Hey, it’s Andrew. You were having a nightmare.”

  I exhale deeply, my body going slack with relief.

  “Oh God, it was so real. So real. He was there.”

  “Who was there?”

  Andrew brushes the hair back from my sweaty brow. I take a few breaths, steadying myself.

  “No one,” I say. “Just some guy we used to know in the tunnels.”

  “Someone who hurt you?”

  My laugh is unamused. “No one ever hurt me in the tunnels. I had my knife.”

  He wraps an arm around my shoulder and pulls me against him. His bare chest is warm and solid. I relax for a few seconds until my temple, slick with sweat, slides across his skin.

  “Sorry,” I say, wiping my fingertips across my forehead to clear away the sweat.

  “It’s okay. You all right?”

  I nod, though my heart is still racing. I glance at the clock beside Andrew’s side of the bed. It’s 4:21 AM.

  “C’mere,” Andrew says, lying down and bringing me with him. He settles me in against his chest, stroking his thumb across my bare hip in slow, lazy circles.

  I’ve been sleeping in his bed every night for the past ten days. After that first night, it just became an unspoken thing between us. Most nights, he shows me all the ways he can bring me pleasure with his skillful hands and mouth. There was one night he was so tired he stripped his clothes off and fell asleep on his stomach as soon as he got into bed. I ran my fingers through his hair and watched him sleep until I fell asle
ep myself.

  It’s strange, this relationship we have. Last week, he passed me an envelope with ten thousand dollars in it over dinner. I miss my sister, but now that I know she’s safe, I’m pretty sure I want to be here for the next four envelopes, too. Not just because of the money, but because I’m getting to know Andrew. He’s private and guarded, but I’m starting to see what lies beneath that exterior.

  “Want to talk about it?” he murmurs in my ear.

  “No.” I run my fingertips over the soft hair on his chest.

  Bethy is safe. I shouldn’t be upset right now, but I am. I hate that I can’t escape Paul. No matter how far I run or how much time passes, he finds me in nightmares.

  Slowly, my heart rate returns to normal. I’m just starting to drift back to sleep when Andrew eases himself out from under me. He works out in his upstairs gym at five thirty AM every day, no matter how late we were up the night before. And lately, we’ve been staying up really late.

  “Maybe I can work out with you sometime,” I say, yawning.

  “Yeah? We can hit the main floor gym anytime you want.”

  “Why do you have two?”

  “I added the one on the second level in the second stage of reno. The first-floor one was just supposed to be temporary.”

  “Mmm,” I say in a sleepy tone.

  I hear him go into his massive closet to get dressed, and I’m nearly asleep when he keys in the code on the keypad next to a door in the bedroom to go upstairs. The automatic deadbolt slides closed behind him with a dull thunk sound.

  His bed is massive and so comfortable. The queen-size bed in my room has soft cotton sheets too, but Andrew’s are all cozy and worn-in. They have the slight cedar scent of his cologne, too. I give in to the warmth and fall back asleep.

  It’s a little after 7 AM when I wake back up and see Andrew walking across the room. He’s freshly showered, the ends of his dark hair still damp, and dressed in a navy suit with a white shirt. A striped tie is hanging around his neck, not yet tied.

  “Morning,” he says, his deep voice and slight smile making me wish he’d get back in bed.

  “Mmm . . . good morning.”

  “I almost made it out of here without waking you. Go back to sleep if you can.”

  I sit up, keeping the covers wrapped around my bare chest. “No, I need to get up too. Those books at the library aren’t gonna read themselves.”

  He’s standing in front of a mirror tying his tie, and he looks over at me in the reflection. “Why don’t you go shopping?”

  I roll my eyes. “Already covered. Dawson’s forcing me to go to the salon and shopping this afternoon.”

  “He means well.”

  “I know. Actually, I’ve been thinking.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Do you think I’d have to get a background check to volunteer at a homeless shelter?”

  Andrew turns around and meets my gaze, his tie secured in a perfect knot.

  “Would a background check be an issue for you?”

  I look down at the bed.

  “I can help,” he says. “You want me to set something up for you?”

  “Could you? I mean . . . I don’t have an ID, and I can’t get one.”

  He walks over to the bed and sits down on the edge. “I’ll make you a deal. I set it up, and you let Roy drive you there and home every day.”

  His bright blue eyes are so serious. Andrew isn’t the light and happy type, but then, neither am I.

  “Okay. If you’re sure you can arrange it.”

  “I’ll do it this morning. Remember, we have that reception tonight.”

  “I remember. It’s why Dawson’s making me go to the salon at three to get beautified.”

  Andrew gets up from the bed and glances back at me. “You couldn’t possibly look any more beautiful than you do at this moment.”

  I smooth a hand over my messy hair and smile.

  “Sadly I have an eight o’clock meeting,” he says, “but I’ll see you tonight.”

  For a second, I think he might come over and kiss me. But he just smiles and leaves. It would have been weird anyway, I’m sure. What would I have said? “Have a good day, dear?” We’re not a couple or anything.

  I take a shower in my own bathroom and dress in jeans and a dark green cashmere sweater. It’s one Dawson picked out for me, and I have to admit, it looks really good.

  After putting on some light makeup, I look at myself in the bathroom mirror. It’s only been five weeks since I lived on the streets, but it feels a lifetime away. I’ve completely lost the dark circles under my eyes, and my collarbone doesn’t stand out so prominently anymore. My hair is shinier. My breasts are back, not that they were ever big. But, still. It’s been a long time since I felt confident in anything other than my survival skills. It feels good.

  I bundle up and set out for the library. It’s almost Thanksgiving, and Christmas decorations are starting to go up in store windows. It’ll be the first Christmas Bethy and I haven’t been together. I swallow the lump in my throat. Better for her to be safe and warm in Mexico than shivering in some alley with me here.

  Last year, Bean got carryout Christmas dinners for us from a homeless shelter, and we ate them in an abandoned building. When Bethy and I were kids, Christmas dinner was an afterthought. Not anymore. We ate every last bite in those Styrofoam containers and loved it.

  When I get to the library and settle into my chair with a book, Anna approaches, handing over a hardback.

  “Perfect color for you, dear. You look lovely.”

  “Thank you, Anna.”

  She smiles. “It’s not just the sweater, though.”

  I smile back. “Things are going really well.”

  “You deserve it.”

  She pats my shoulder and returns to her desk. I take my coat, purse, and the two books and weave my way through the tall shelves lined with books until I’m secluded from anyone’s view.

  The letter is waiting for me right inside the front cover of the book. The sight of my sister’s handwriting fills me with a warm sense of reassurance. I run my fingers over the letters on the envelope before carefully opening the top.

  Inside the letter is a picture of Bethy. She’s standing on the beach, the blue ocean and setting sun in the background. A few strands of her brown hair are blowing up in the breeze, and she’s smiling. Her skin is golden with a tan.

  My eyes fill with tears. She looks so healthy. So happy. For as much as I’ve always been the strong one, Bethy is rising to the occasion. She wants me to see that she’s doing okay. I can see it in her expression. It makes me so happy I could cry.

  After I stare at the photo for a few more seconds, I read the letter.

  Dear Quinn,

  It’s so nice here. Every day is beautiful and warm. The people are all really nice, even though I don’t speak the language. They help me with things and try to feed me all the time.

  Bean has a job! He works with a fisherman every day, and I study with a woman named Maria. She’s a teacher who had to move back home to take care of her mother who is sick. Maria is teaching me Spanish and math, and we also have reading time at the beach every day. Obviously, I like the reading time the best. It makes me think of our library.

  I miss you. I can’t wait until you get here and we can walk on the beach together. You’ll love it. Our place is very small, but we don’t need much room. There’s just one bedroom, a bathroom, and a kitchen and living room combined into one. Bean sleeps on the couch, and I sleep in the bedroom. He says when you come we’ll get a bigger place, but for now, we’re trying not to spend much money.

  Today, Maria is taking me to a farmer’s market. She wants me to ask for all the food we need by name in Spanish and pay for it myself. Then we’re going to cook dinner.

  Here’s a picture of me at the beach Maria and I go to every day. Please write me and let me know how you are. We’re good, so please don’t worry about us.

  Love,

  Beth
y

  I read the letter again, then place the photo back inside it and tuck it back into the envelope. Once I’ve stashed it safely in a pocket of my purse, I walk back to my chair and sit down to read my book for a couple hours.

  Once my stomach starts grumbling, I decide it’s time to go home and get lunch. After returning the books to their spots on the shelves, I slide into my coat, wrap my scarf around my face, and set back out.

  My heart is so full. The buzz of energy from traffic and pedestrians surrounds me, and I realize this is my city now. This is home to me, which is funny considering I spent most of my time here hungry and desperate. But I have to say one thing for New York City—what I needed, it gave me. I had to find a place my sister and I could become invisible, and we did. And given my arrangement with Andrew, I’m even more convinced this is a city of dreams. Anything is possible here, and nothing is off-limits.

  I already have a dress I want to wear to the reception tonight. It’s black and beaded and very elegant. I know Andrew will love it. I’m trying to decide how to tell Dawson I don’t want to go shopping for something new when a sound makes me stop in my tracks on the sidewalk.

  It was a cry of pain. I’m not sure how I heard it over the sounds of traffic, but I know it was there. Where did it come from, though?

  I step out of the row of pedestrians on the sidewalk to look around. It’s busy and crowded everywhere. I decide I must have imagined the noise when I hear it again.

  My head automatically turns toward the narrow alley the sound came from. My feet follow suit, heading into the dark, muddy space. My new shoes are sliding in the gray sludge on the ground. It’s hard to see since two tall buildings block all the light, but I look from side to side as I get deeper into the alley.

  And then I see it. Cowering behind a Dumpster is a very sad looking creature. Its hair is matted and filthy. Big, brown eyes look up at me, and I see the question in them: what are you going to do to me?

  I melt. This dog needs a friend so badly. I approach him slowly, my palm up. He shrinks back against the Dumpster.

  It’s a wonder he’s alive. He’s skin and bones. As I get closer, he whimpers and I try to soothe him.

  “Shh, I won’t hurt you,” I say softly. “You’re okay.”