It was Thursday night, all I wanted was to relax before the party tomorrow, and Michael showed up at the perfect time with the usual takeout. Dressed in that damn nice suit that fit him perfectly, his sleeves were rolled up his muscular forearms and my core was growing warmer by the damn second.
He sat down in the seat next to me and placed the food down on the table in front of us. His brows were furrowed together, as if he had been stressed the entire day or was worried about something.
Before he could take out the sandwiches, I placed my hand on his knee and slid it up his thigh, aching for a release. “Mia,” he said sternly, his voice just turning me on more. “Remember the last time we did this in public.”
“The Mr. Bryne I know doesn’t care about being caught,” I said, smiling sweetly at him.
The tension in his face disappeared for a moment, and he shifted in his seat, placing his hand on my knee, then trailing it up my thigh. He slid his hand over my leggings and dipped them between my legs, rubbing my pussy through the thin material. I snatched the take-out bag from him and placed it over my legs, so if anyone walked by they wouldn’t be able to see him touching my pussy.
“Have you been thinking about this all day, Mia?”
I nodded and stared at him, watching his eyes grow playful. “More,” I whispered.
“So desperate,” he said, the corner of his lip curling up. He slipped his hand into my pants, hooked a finger inside my underwear, and pulled them to the side to rub small circles against my clit.
I blew out a shaky breath from my nose and balled the takeout bag in my fist. The pressure rose in my core, and I pressed my knees together. God, I wished everyday could be like this with him.
“Keep your legs spread,” he said, eyes hardening. I clenched hard, heat warming my core, and spread my legs a bit more for him. “More.” When I only spread them a few more inches, he grabbed my knee with his other hand and pulled it toward him--forcing me to spread my legs wide.
Then he brushed his fingers up my thigh, up my abdomen, to my breasts, and played with my nipple poking out of my shirt. “You’re ready for me to come see you today,” he said with that devilish smirk on his face.
His fingers quickened, and I could feel the pressure building up in my core. I dug my nails into him, unable to hold off my orgasm much longer.
A family walked into the waiting room, yet Michael didn’t stop. He dragged his fingertip across my nipple, back and forth and back and forth, making my core tighten. I scooted in my seat, hoping that the family wouldn’t notice.
And, then, he pushed his fingers into me, starting to slowly thrust them in and out. “Are you going to moan for me, Mia?” he asked in my ear. “Or am I going to have to make you again?”
I could hear his finger thrusting into my wetness. He moved his fingers faster, and I shut my eyes tightly. “Michael,” I whispered, grasping his wrist even tighter. The pressure was driving me higher and higher by the damn second.
“Your pussy feels so tight around my fingers,” he said. “I want to feel you tightening around this.” He grabbed my hand and placed it on the bulge in his pants. Right out in the damn open, like he didn’t care who saw.
I bit my lip hard--hoping to not make a sound. He groped my breast again, and I took another shaky breath. God, help me.
When he curled his fingers inside me--immediately hitting my g-spot--he slapped a hand over my mouth to muffle my moan. “Shh, shh, shh.” His fingers continued to curl, over and over. My core was pulsing on him, my legs trembling. Wave after wave of pleasure shot through me.
After a few moments, he pulled his fingers out of my pussy, stuck them into his mouth, and relaxed beside me. And, then, as if nothing happened, he wiped them on a napkin and we ate our dinner in silence. “I want to talk to you,” Michael said, balling up his sandwich wrapper and throwing it into the bag. I swallowed my food and sat up, brushing my knee against his.
There was a lot I wanted to talk about with him because though I had just orgasmed, I was greedy. I wanted more. I wanted him. For a split moment, his gaze drifted from my legs to my hips, then back to my face and he reluctantly restrained himself. “Not that.”
My lips formed an ‘o’, and I tossed my wrapper into the brown paper bag with his, wiping my fingers on a napkin. A hundred things raced through my mind about what it could be. Something in my stomach turned, and I felt like he was about to say something really, really bad. He hadn’t treated me any different since Mom came to the hospital, but… I had been waiting for this talk for three weeks now.
“What do you want to talk about?” I asked, gnawing on the inside of my cheek.
He rubbed his face and broke eye contact with me. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while. I just haven’t known how to say it.”
My stomach tightened, and I swallowed hard. Here it comes…
“I heard the conversation you had with your father a few weeks ago.”
My eyes widened, cheeks flushing red. He heard how desperate I was for money. He knew how much I needed it and how… how I couldn’t support myself. I parted my lips to say something but nothing would come out.
It didn’t seem like he knew what to say either because he didn’t say anything for the longest time. And, then, he said what I feared the most. “How much do you need?”
All I felt was shame and guilt and so many emotions that I didn’t even know I had. I shook my head and looked him right in the eye. “I don’t need anything.” I didn’t want his money or that pitiful look he was giving me.
“Mia,” he said, carefully choosing his next words. “Don’t be difficult. All I want to do is help you. There’s nothing wrong with accepting money from someone else.”
My heart pounded in my chest, and something inside of me snapped. “If you want to help me out, you’d stop talking about this right now and go fuck me in the damn supply closet,” I said, gaze hard. “Because I don’t want your money or sorrow or even compassion. I just want sex.”
As soon as the words left my mouth, I wished they hadn’t. I didn’t mean for it to come out so harsh and so… so cruel. It sounded like I didn’t have any feelings for him at all… when I did. There was more to us than late night encounters and sneaking into storage closets. Hell, I wanted more than this. But… it couldn’t happen. It was bad enough we were hooking up. We’d never be able to have a real relationship.
An unreadable expression crossed his face, and then he clenched his jaw. “You’re either lying to yourself or you’re blind, Mia,” he said. “You deserve more than what Mason has been giving you.”
“Oh, so, he is what you really want to talk about,” I said. And, again, I couldn’t seem to stop myself. I didn’t want to feel like a pitiful mess. I didn’t want to feel like I owed Michael. I just wanted to keep our relationship the way it was…
Because I was scared.
Michael’s eyes hardened. “He hasn’t come visited you all week, and when he does he flirts with all the nurses at the front desk.”
My heart ached, and I grasped onto the seat, knuckles turning white. “I know what he does,” I snapped. “You don’t have to make me feel worse about it.”
Michael stood up and ran his hands through his hair. “I don’t understand you, Mia.” He sighed and shook his head at me. “I don’t understand why you deal with his shit. He doesn’t give a fuck about you, and you let him walk all over you. But when someone does care, when someone wants to help you out of this situation… all you want from them is sex?”
I swallowed hard and stared at him. No, that’s not all I wanted. I wanted to scream those words at him, wanted him to just hold me… but I didn’t want to screw things up with him. I had screwed things up with every guy in my life, except Michael. And I didn’t want to ruin the relationship we already had.
After gathering all my damn strength--knowing that one way or another we wouldn’t last--I looked him right in the eye. Might as well stop this little game between us now before things got serious between us.
“I don’t want anything more,” I lied, my eyes becoming glossy. “All I had ever wanted from you was sex.”
He stared at me with so much hurt, waiting for me to take it back, waiting for me to break down into tears, but I refused to. I would suffer more now, so I wouldn’t suffer later.
His gaze dropped to the ground, and he shook his head, jaw clenched. “Fine.” He grabbed his suit jacket and slung it over his shoulder. “Then I should go.” And then he walked to the elevators, not sparing me another glance.
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