over it.
Finally, he tugged out. “Get dressed,” he said harshly, his
body heat leaving me completely.
Scrabbling sideways, I landed on all fours and crawled to my
clothes. There was no point putting on my vest top, it was in shreds. Breaths
still coming fast and sharp, I shrugged into my denim jacket and fastened it
over my crudely abused chest. The cool buttons pressed on my sweat-damp flesh and
every rapid breath I took squeezed coarse denim against my taut nipples.
Unfurling my panties, I sat on my scorched, tender rear and
slid them on.
Jovica stepped into his boxer briefs and stood watching me.
There was a rise of color on his cheekbones. His chest was lifting and falling
briskly. His eyes were narrowed and a sheen of sweat sparkled on his brow.
“My hundred,” I said, poking my feet into my scrappy skirt
and tugging the tight material up and over my hips.
He glanced down at his cell on the sofa. “I guess the hour
is just about over and I’m not going to get it up again in the next five.”
He reached for a cigarette and lit it as if he had all the
time in the world.
“So pay me.”
He inhaled deeply, blew out the smoke then balanced the thin
end between his lips. Stooping, he sought his wallet and flipped it open.
I stood and slipped on my shoes. My body was trembling, from
the aftermath of the climax and from the thrill of being paid for letting him
fuck me in my mouth, my cunt and up my ass. It was a floaty, dreamy sensation.
He tugged out a wad of notes. “Here,” he said around the
cigarette.
Stepping up to him on weak knees, I snatched the money.
Counted it and shoved it into my front breast pocket.
Our gazes connected for the briefest of seconds, then I
strode past him. After four steps my heels unbalanced me and my foot twisted. I
stumbled and fell into the door at the same time as he grabbed my upper arm.
I cried out as a knife-sharp pain seared around bones and
tendons in my left ankle. But my cry faltered as he spun me fast and banged my
back against the door, whooshing the breath from my lungs.
Gasping, I looked up at him, blinking rapidly as smoke
filled the narrow space between us.
Releasing his grip on my left arm, he plucked the roll-up
from his mouth and ground it against the door, just to the left of my head. He
let the crinkled stub fall to the floor.
“You wanna be careful,” he said in a strangely quiet voice.
“You might get hurt.”
His eyes were on fire, the dark-brown iris ringed with black,
his pupils wide and glittering. Each untamed brow and long eyelash was clear to
me as was a miniscule freckle below the tiny inner curve of his right eye,
where tears would come from. He pressed his lips together so tight they paled,
and his nostrils flared with each breath. I could see inside his nostrils, the
little straight black hairs growing there.
He was so damn close and so damn raw.
I gulped. My heart tripped. This contact, this expression
was not only new it screamed danger. A sudden sense of cold dread seared
through my veins. My precarious position had just soared to flight level. Fight
was not an option. The size of him, the stored-up power vibrating through his
body was terrifying but also, and I hardly dared admit it, exhilarating. In fact,
if I hadn’t felt so damn scared I would have paused to examine why this
white-knuckle moment was making me buzz again.
“Whore,” he muttered, the left side of his mouth twitching.
“You’ve enjoyed your work tonight, haven’t you?”
“I… I have to go.”
He was roaming his hands over my shoulders, my chest and my
neck. He cupped my cheek and nape, held my head painfully tight.
He kissed me.
I wouldn’t accept it. I clamped my mouth and fought him off
with my fists, but it was like trying to move a slab of concrete. He was
unbudgeable, his weight twice mine and his muscles toned and strong.
He plundered his tongue in and swept around. His lips were
hard and ferocious against mine. He moved his hands down the