Jagged Edge

“Jason… Listen.”

But that would be a fucking bad idea, whatever he has to say. I grab his hand and drag him toward the dark blue sofa. The furniture is so conservative, so male. So normal. I give him a small shove, and he lets himself sink against the big cushions, his eyes wide.

“Relax,” I tell him as I kneel between his legs, his muscular, denim-clad thighs on either side of me. “Sit back. Let me take care of you.”

His scent is stronger here, his musk filling my senses, and I’m at eye level with that fascinating bulge.

He mutters something, drawing my attention to his mouth. His lips part and a sudden, burning urge to kiss him blasts through me. I can almost taste him on my tongue, imagine his scent turning into taste, bittersweet and heady like a sip of Jack, imagine driving my tongue into his mouth, wringing one of those deep moans out of him.

God. I haven’t been able to get the sound out of my mind, and I shift where I’m kneeling, a hot current flooding my back, making my whole body clench.

He lifts a hand to my shoulder, fingertips trailing on my neck, and I flinch. Oh fuck, I’ve lingered too long.

“Let me,” I say again, attempt another smile and make the mistake of looking up into his eyes. They’re such a gorgeous blue with those long, dark lashes… I’m caught and sinking deep. “Let me,” I whisper and reach for his zipper.

But his hand on my shoulder tightens, keeps me still on my knees. “Wait.”

“What is it?”

“Slow down. I just… wanted to talk.” He swallows, shadows shifting in his gaze. “I don’t know if this is such a good idea.”

“You liked it just fine last time,” I snap, quite reasonably in my opinion. Hey, I’m a hooker. This is my job. “And this is what you brought me here for.”

I cut a pointed look at the tent in the front of his pants, his cock so hard its shape is outlined in the soft denim.

And damn, this brings back again the memory of sucking him off last time—his size, his thickness, the way he gripped my hair, the way he moaned…

Fuck, enough. I lift a hand and grip his wrist, fully intending to free myself of his hold, do what I came here to do and go.

Before I make my move, though, he lets go with a sigh and sprawls back, observing me from under lowered lashes.

The irritation ain’t something new, but the sting of disappointment comes out of nowhere. It’s as if I wanted him to keep his hand there, to keep talking to me. To insist I stop, take my time. That it’s up to me, that it’s not business but—

But what? Seriously, Jason?

The real world comes back into focus, laser-sharp. When I reach for his button and zipper, I don’t fumble, and if my hands shake, I don’t even notice, all my attention on undoing his pants and freeing that impressive hard-on.

He may pretend all he wants that talking is what he brought me here for, but his dick tells a different story. Dicks don’t lie.

Oh shit. Condom.

I almost forgot, and that right there tells you how out of sorts I am. I whip one out of my back pocket and tear it open with my teeth. The taste of latex is familiar, and not all that unpleasant. I roll it carefully over Raine’s dick—a big dick, veined and thick and long and damn hot…

And there can’t be a repeat of tonight. Not with the way I get so distracted by him.

Not that he’s trying to distract me, not anymore. He keeps his hands lax at his sides and his eyes on me as I make sure the condom is rolled all the way, hissing a little when I pull at the tip. His thighs are trembling, and his mouth has gone a bit slack.

Good.

I wink at him, then sink low on my knees, grip his cock with one hand and deep-throat him.

“Oh fuck.” His back arches, and he writhes on the sofa, his legs splaying wider, his boots kicking at nothing. “Slow… slow down.”

Again with that? Goddammit. I’m proud of my skills. Weren’t easy to learn and perfect, and I give damn good head, so what’s his problem?

I ease back anyway, until only the tip of his cock is in my mouth, and lift a questioning brow at him.