Controlled Burn (Blackbridge Security 8)

After their nap, and regretting not lying down myself, I got them dressed and headed out for a little shopping.

I was utterly distraught after leaving the private dance room last night. I knew I’d never be able to do that for men I don’t know. I didn’t even come out of a single part of my uniform for Finn, and I still felt like my nerves were exposed. I don’t fault anyone working in any part of the sex industry. Women have beautiful bodies, and if they’re comfortable sharing some parts of those—or even all—I say go for it. I just can’t go that far myself.

Lily, another one of the dancers caught me crying in the changing room, and on a series of sobs, I dropped all my problems at her feet. I told her about losing the apartment, and not having anywhere to go. I cried through telling her about my need for more shifts, but how impossible it was for me to take those shifts considering what would be expected of me. I even mentioned Finn and how damn sexy he was. She didn’t see that last part as a problem, but she gave me advice on what I could do to earn that extra money without having to sacrifice the time I have with my kids.

That lead to the shopping trip with the kids, who are all now sleeping for a late afternoon nap because shopping is exhausting, apparently.

I should be lying down as well, considering I have a shift tonight, but I’m taking Lily’s advice, and sorting through my purchases before getting on my computer.

The front door opens and closes, the atmosphere changing around me just with Finn’s presence in the condo. I consider shoving my purchases back in the bag but doing so would only draw more attention. He doesn’t walk straight to his room or flop down in his recliner like I expect, and in a matter of seconds, he’s standing on the other side of the table, his eyes glued to the lace, cotton, and silk spread out over the top.

“That is a lot of underwear,” he observes, a sly smile that does things to my body I won’t admit spreading across his face as he visually inventories the garments.

“Gotta do what I gotta do,” I say with a sigh, trying to remember the counts in my head so I’m ready for later.

“Like change your panties every ten minutes?”

He inches closer, his eyes locking on the white cotton in the center of the table. He crooks a finger, picking it up, and we both stare at the dangling fabric.

“I can’t picture you wearing these. In fact, you weren’t wearing panties last night.”

A thrill runs up my spine, and I stand statue still in an effort not to clench my thighs together. Before, it was the sight of him and all his glorious muscles that turned me on. His accent played a huge part in my fantasies as well. Now, after knowing what he’s like in bed, it takes actual restraint not to suggest going back to his room. I want to mention him holding his hand over my mouth because I can’t control the sounds I make when he’s inside of me.

And I need to quit.

“They were requested,” I lie, my eyes darting down to the table because I just can’t look at him.

I’m not ashamed, but explaining that I plan to sell used panties online makes my cheeks heat with embarrassment.

Lily gave me all the info I needed and explained how to shop sales to save money. She gave me tips on how to get more fans and what I needed to do to keep them once they reached out.

“Requested?” he says, letting the fabric slip from his fingertip.

“I sell them.”

“Your used underthings?” he says, sounding confused.

“Panties, Finn. I’m going to sell them online because—” I snap my mouth closed. I don’t owe him an explanation. I don’t need to justify my choices to anyone.

He moves then, but not away like I expect. Instead, he lines up behind me, pressing his erection to my lower back as his hands come around my stomach. He doesn’t inch his fingers inside of my clothes, doesn’t toy with the hem of my shirt, but it’s as if my body doesn’t know the difference. He might as well be two knuckles deep inside of me for how ready I am for him.

His warm lips brush my neck, and I have to clamp my teeth between my lips to prevent a whimper of need from escaping. His teeth nip at my earlobe, threatening to make me crumple to the floor.

I should be pushing him away. I told him last night what happened would never happen again, but I know better. Maybe he does, too, because instead of trying to step away, I lean more of my weight against his chest, wanting to purr and rub on him like an affectionate cat.