I withdraw my finger and circle her clit. Bebe whimpers into my chest. With my other hand, I grip the hair at the back of her head and pull her back so I can see that gorgeous face.
“Look at me,” I order. Her eyes pop open, hazy at first, but then they focus. “Let me have those eyes while I make you come, yeah?”
She nods mutely. I continue sliding my finger against her, circling, pressing, massaging. I hold her by the hair, forcing her to look me in the eyes. Within mere moments, I make her come hard. Bebe cries out my name, finally succumbing to the pleasure by squeezing her eyes shut and groaning out a brutal release. Her hips jerk, swivel, trying to draw out the pleasure, and I let her use my fingers a little longer because I want her to feel good.
Bebe gasps hard and when she finally gives me her regard once again, I can see realization start to set in that I just gave her an orgasm. She looks embarrassed… hopelessly lost.
Then her hands fly to my belt buckle, and she starts to work at it. Her gaze drops when she mumbles, “Let me give you—”
I clamp my hand down on hers. “Stop.”
Her gaze jerks up, and she frowns in confusion. “But I want…”
“I know you do,” I assure her gently, dipping my head down to press my lips briefly against hers. “But I somehow feel like this was important to you, and you don’t owe me a damn thing.”
“But I want—” she starts.
“I know,” I murmur. “I know you do, but we have time to get there. Doesn’t have to be tonight. How about we just cherish this moment, okay?”
I can see on her face that she doesn’t understand. She’s not sure if this is a rejection.
I do the best I can to reassure her. “Bebe… you are fantastic. And I can’t wait to see you again. Tomorrow night if you’ll let me, okay?”
Her lower lip trembles slightly, and she averts her eyes. Her voice quavers slightly. “That was amazing… what you just made me feel.”
“I’ll give it to you again, anytime you want,” I say.
That gives her the courage to meet my eyes once again. The corners of her mouth tip up, and I get a sheepish half-smile. “Like I said… it’s been a while.”
“Yeah… you came pretty fast. It was spectacular.”
Her cheeks turn rosy from the erotic compliment, and I have to wonder why I stopped her from opening my fly. Despite my restraint and caution, I’ve never wanted to fuck someone more in my entire life.
And yet… it’s complicated.
Because I should be killing her for Anatoly right now.
?
I stand out on the street, watching the cab pull away with Bebe tucked safely inside. We suffered through a bit of awkwardness after Bebe came back down to earth, and I let my hard-on naturally subside. After I made us new cups of coffee, we sat at the kitchen table and talked about Aaron.
Oddly, after I’d used my fingers to make her orgasm, the safest thing to talk about seemed to be her son. Neither of us has to acknowledge we’d just taken a big step in intimacy with one another, and we weren’t exactly sure what to do. I was sent here to eliminate Bebe. She’s holding dark secrets from me.
Let’s face it… we can’t be any good for each other, right?
When the cab’s taillights recede, I turn slowly for my building and trudge up the stairs rather than take the elevator. Once inside my apartment, I clean up the kitchen before heading to my bedroom. I feel a heaviness inside as I remove my clothes and slide under the covers.
My phone rings. Without even looking at the screen, deep in my gut, I know it’s Anatoly. We haven’t spoken in a few days, and he’s someone who likes to stay up on everything.
“Hello,” I answer as I connect the call.
“How about giving me a fucking update every once in a while, Griff?” he growls into the phone.
“Nothing to update,” I say flatly. “She’s been working and going home.”
“When are you going to do it?” he asks.
“I’ve got a plan—”
“When?” he barks.
“This weekend,” I say.
He goes silent. He’s obviously trying to figure out something else to bitch about because Anatoly loves to be in control. He’s the boss, and he leads by instilling fear and insecurity.
“Don’t fuck this up,” he finally says. “Because you will not like how I’ll react if you do.”
“I’ve got it under control,” I assure him. “I’ve got a plan.”
“Good,” he replies. “That’s really good. Call me when it’s done. Better yet… send me photos. I want to see your handiwork.”
I roll my eyes, something I take great pleasure in. “You got it.”
Anatoly disconnects, and I toss my phone on the nightstand. Lacing my fingers behind my head, I stare into the darkness and try to imagine what a normal life would look like.