One to Protect (One to Hold 3)

Holding her in a deep throat. Can’t tell if she’s okay.

Coughing, she gasps and laughs again. It’s shaky, but fuck. I don’t know what to do.

“Good?” His tone is condescending, like a coach or a teacher. I want to bash his head against the wall.

“You’re so big.” Her voice is shaky, but I hear her smile. I rub my forehead, wishing to be anywhere but here.

“Almost there…” His voice is straine

d and punctuated by the sounds of Star working him. Scuffing of shoes, low groans, then a deep “Ahhh… Drink it all. Fuck yes,” which I know is him finishing.

Patrick’s lips are tight when I glance up at him.

Star’s back to high, breathy Marilyn. “Good?”

“Very good. You can really take it, can’t you?” The note of ridicule in his voice makes me hate him even more. I didn’t think that was possible.

“I guess.” Star’s doing the best imitation of timid I’ve heard in a while, and I’m ready to nominate her for an Oscar.

“No guessing, you can. Next time we’ll see just how much you can take, and then maybe we’ll discuss my apartment downtown. I’m looking for someone new.”

“What does that mean?” She actually sounds excited, and my stomach turns.

“It means treats. And tricks.”

“Tricks?”

Sloan’s clothes are back in order, and Star leans beside him against the wall. Her black dress is smooth, and only her hair is messy from their encounter.

“You’ll see.” He touches her hair lightly. “I recently lost someone…”

Tenderness is in his voice. I don’t believe it for one fucking second, but we all strain forward anyway, hanging on what he might say next.

“Want to tell me about it?”

Her hand slides across his torso, and for a moment, I think she’s going to embrace him—then I notice her black-lace thong peeking out from his pants pocket. He seems to remember as well, and it snaps him out of whatever moment he was just having.

Sloan catches her hand with a menacing smile. “I’ll hang onto these. You can have them back tomorrow night.”

“When we meet for something more?”

“We’ll meet at the bar. Or where are you staying?”

“I’m nearby. The umm… Bridgestreet.”

I can see him thinking. “We’d better start at the bar. Here, since you came first, you only get half.”

“That wasn’t the deal.” She slants her eyes like he just told a joke. “What will I do with you?”

He hands over a white envelope. “Just so we’re clear, I intend to fuck you tomorrow night. In interesting ways.”

“Crystal, and I’ll expect the full amount.” She rolls forward as if to kiss him, but he pushes up and past her, going back toward the restaurant.

“You’ll be full. Don’t worry.” With that he pushes through the door, leaving her alone.

Bastard.

She rolls back against the wall and looks down at her shoes. I can’t tell what thoughts are going through her head. Warring in my chest is a tangle of rage and frustration overwhelmed by a strong need for vengeance.