Head On (Strength And Love)(32)

“Ooooh.”

Her surprised whimper stops me for a moment.

“Don’t stop. It feels amazing.” She presses back against me.

Reassured I’m not hurting her, I push in more, before pulling out, and then I freeze. Fuck! I got carried away. I’ve not even thought about protection.

“What’s wrong?” She wiggles against me, and I stop her, holding her hips still.

“I forgot the condom. Shit, I’m sorry. I never forget the condom. You get me so worked up.”

She’s not saying anything, and I bet she’s imagining herself at risk from all sorts of stuff, with what I do.

I sigh against her neck. “I’m clean, honey. I get checked every month, and I always wear condoms. Plus, ninety-nine percent of my clients are married and not fucking anyone else, and that includes their husbands.”

She stiffens further in my arms. Crap, I shouldn’t have mentioned what I do. I want to punch myself in the face.

“I’m clean is all you need to know. But obviously, you can get pregnant. I’m going to grab a condom.” I kiss her shoulder and start to move away, but her hand clamps down on mine on her belly, and holds me in place.

“I’m clean, too. Obviously. Why don’t we do it like this? I want to feel you, not the condom.”

Holy shit! I want that too, but there’s the not-so trivial matter of her getting pregnant. While a part of me thrills at the idea, the sensible side of me knows it’s a stupid thing to do. “You can still get pregnant, sweetheart.”

She shakes her head and her hair tickles my nose. “I can’t. It’s…it’s taken care of.”

“You’re on the pill?”

She nods once. I should still get a condom. This is stupid. It’s another barrier between us dropped, but she feels too good. Amazing, in fact. I pull her even closer to me, and start to press in and out. Soon, she’s moving too, pushing back against me, and we soon find our rhythm. I move my hand down between her legs again, and start to strum her clit.

“Oh.” She sighs out the one word and lets her head fall back onto me.

I’ve got her pussy tight around me, her curves against me, her hair draping over my face. All I can see, hear, smell, and feel is her. And it’s glorious.

“Oh, oh, oh.” She makes these panted little exclamations and I bite down on her neck gently, just nipping really. That’s all it takes, and she starts to come.

Her rhythm goes out the window, but I don’t give a shit. She’s squeezing me like a vice, and with no barrier between us, it’s all I need. I join her, and come like crazy. I fill her up, pumping my load into her as she comes down from her own high.

When we’re both almost back to breathing normally, I pull out of her, and scoot her into my arms, wrapping her tight.

I’m kissing and nibbling at her neck, holding her close, and my eyes start to close. I feel so…peaceful.

The thought brings me up short. I haven’t felt peaceful in a long time. I’m mostly…empty. And empty is an entirely different thing to peaceful. I’d rather be empty than live with the turmoil I’ve witnessed Luka grapple with, but this? This is much better. I’m feeling things again. It’s as if the world’s gone from shades of grey to Technicolor. But whereas before, I had to shut all that down, or all the bad stuff came flooding in, too. Now, in this moment, I’m only experiencing the good stuff.

And suddenly my brain is moving in a dangerous direction. Why can’t we have a relationship? Okay, she’s younger than me. So what? Who gives a shit? It’s not like I’m fifty and she’s eighteen. We’re not too far apart in age for people to freak out over it. And yeah, she was a virgin, but she’s not anymore. Thanks to me. She’s vulnerable until whatever is going on with her dad is over, and I can help keep her safe. Maybe, just maybe, I can live a normal life. Have a girlfriend.

I let myself imagine coming home to her, and right there is where the stupid sappy movie reel comes to a screeching halt. Yeah, come home to her after fucking other women for money. As if that’s going to work.

So, give it up, a little voice in my head says. Could I? I’d need to find a new way to make money. Luckily, screwing for cash pays well enough that I own this house outright. And my cars. So long as I have enough to still be able to help my sis out, I don’t need all that much.

My phone beeps, and I turn over and reach lazily for it. I see I’ve got a new email. I click on it and it’s from Sarah Ryan, the photographer. I read her message, twice. She wants to photograph me for a project she’s doing taking pictures of retired soldiers. My site says I am ex special forces in my biography section, no more detail and no real name. it’s the truth but it could easily be loads of bull. She is willing to pay me hundreds of pounds for an afternoon’s work. Why the fuck not? There’s another email from one of my old forces buddies, Liam. I open that, and can’t believe what I am seeing. He’s offering me a job.

What the hell? This is like some sort of celestial sign or some shit. And it panics me as much as it thrills me. Suddenly the thing I thought I couldn’t have is looking possible, and once it’s possible, it’s as scary as fuck.

I skim-read Liam’s message. He runs a security company. High end stuff, looking after the super rich. Those guys will pay thousands and thousands a day to keep safe.