Page 35 of Mischief Mayhem
I took a deep breath and let it out on a sigh, ignoring the flutter in my heart when he said it. I had liked everything, including the bites, and after all the scenes I’d done and all the people I’d been with, Hollywood had been my favorite. He responded to each touch, each brush of the whip, as if it would be the last thing he ever felt. After this, I couldn’t deny how well we matched, how much I wanted to keep doing these things to him.
Careful, a part of me warned. Thoughts like that would lead down a very dangerous road, one neither of us wanted to walk. This wasn’t a relationship. This wasn’t even supposed to be about sex. This was about control and release, end of story. All these feelings rattling around in my brain were nothing more than a hormone release. It would pass. It had to pass.
When he moved on, when he decided he wanted someone else, I couldn’t be attached. He had to stay at arm’s length.
“Was it too hard?” I asked. “Do you want me to go harder next time?”
“Hmm.” He gave me a dreamy smile and nodded. “Harder.”
“All right.” Once the water was high enough, I helped him stand and guided him to the tub, holding his body while he stepped in and sat down. He hissed in a breath when the water touched his back and his ass hit the ground, but then he relaxed against the porcelain and let out a deep sigh.
“Thank you, V,” he said. “For all this.”
“Yeah, Hudson. What are friends for?”
He laughed deep in his chest and raised an eyebrow. “Is that what we are? Friends?”
“Barely. With really good benefits.” I kneeled by the tub and ran my hand through the water, letting it flow through my fingertips.
He grabbed it and intertwined his fingers in mine. “Get in with me.”
Despite all we’d just done together, that seemed too personal, as if sharing a bath after I’d come in his mouth made this more intimate than it should be. Suddenly, I was too self-conscious to take my corset off. I had a big nasty scar going down the center of my chest, one that distorted the tattoo under my breasts. I didn’t like the way I looked, at least not right there.
“Next time,” I said, smiling. “This one is for you.”
“C’mon, V.” He tilted his head to the side and stuck his bottom lip out in a pout. “I just wanna cuddle.”
“I don’t like getting wet.”
He rolled his eyes. “That’s not true. You enjoyed being wet just a few minutes ago.”
I splashed his face and scoffed. “Don’t be crude.”
“Dommes need aftercare, too. Get in with me, V. Please.”
Well, since he begged . . .
“Okay.” I stood and pulled at the laces on my top, loosening them enough to yank the suffocating thing off. Thankfully, I’d taken off the jar containing the bullet fragment before I changed so he wouldn’t see it and start asking questions. Then, I tugged off my boots and slid my fishnets down to the ground so I could step out of them. He sat up so I could squeeze in behind him, my legs going to either side of his hips, his head planted between my breasts. I relaxed against the back of the tub and he let out a breath as he laid back on me.
“This is the best,” he said, grabbing my calves. He slid his hands up and down in a soothing, massaging motion that had me nodding and agreeing with him. “When can we do it again?”
“Whenever you want,” I said, tunneling my fingers through his hair. “I’ve got clients in the morning, but you could come over after that.”
“Clients,” he said, the word sounding sad in his mouth. “You do this to others.”
“You knew that before we started.” My heart pounded under his head, the postcoital high now almost gone as reality sank back in.
“You said you didn’t share.” His hands froze on the outsides of my thighs, holding me in place while he tried to coax out my response, and he looked up at me with his brows furrowed. His lips pulled into a thin line, like it hurt him for me to say it.
“I don’t touch anyone else,” I explained. “Most of it is talking them through their orgasm. You and Candy are the only people I’ve seen in person since I got home.”
“Okay.” He hummed appreciatively and relaxed again. “I’m okay with that.”
“Good,” I said. “And when the Beacon opens up again, I’m planning on resuming the general manager spot. I’ll only put on shows with an eager pretty boy, if he’s up to it . . . assuming this is still going on.”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” He narrowed his eyes up at me, but even that was likely a side effect of his comedown.
Because you’re you, and I’m me, I wanted to say. Hollywood had a reputation for a reason, and even if he’d spent the last eight months soul searching, a tiger didn’t change its stripes. I had a hard time trusting people, and if I let him in, he had the potential to hurt me more than anyone ever had.