The Dare Collection January 2019. JC Harroway

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       CHAPTER THIRTEEN

       Xander

      I COULDN’T BREATHE, the effects of my orgasm squeezing my chest tight, squeezing all the air out of my lungs. My heartbeat thundered in my head and in that moment if anyone had asked me to perform a simple equation I wouldn’t have been able to do it. Even two plus three would have been an impossibility.

      I wouldn’t have even known what numbers meant.

      There was only Poppy, naked, her beautiful body stretched out in front of me, the curve of her butt resting in my lap, the rest of her arched back on the floor.

      Perspiration shone on her bronzed body, her curves burnished and lit by the neon from the city lights outside. She had her eyes closed, thick, silky black lashes lying on her perfect cheekbones, her breathing harsh and ragged, echoing mine.

      She felt tight and hot around my cock, her muscles still pulsing, and I wanted to keep going, to take her some more, but I’d used her hard so far already and she needed a break.

      I didn’t question the urge that gripped me; I just went with it, pulling out of her and dealing with the condom. Then I gathered her up in my arms, nestling her soft weight and warmth against my chest.

      Her head fell back on my shoulder and she looked up at me, her lovely eyes darkened and glazed with pleasure. She didn’t speak, but her smile made something start to thaw inside my chest that I hadn’t even realised was frozen.

      I should have put her down then, put her down and walked the hell away, but I couldn’t. I just...couldn’t.

      Instead I smiled back. ‘You okay?’

      She made a deep, satisfied sound. ‘Oh, yeah. More than okay. I think you might have broken me a little though.’

      ‘I do aim to please.’

      She reached up and touched my jaw, her fingers gentle, a casual intimacy that had my heart racing for some reason, that frozen piece of me thawing a little more. No one ever touched me like that. Just because they could, because they wanted to, as if touching me was a connection they needed.

      My mother had died when I was small so I never had memories of her touch and my father wasn’t one for physical affection. He wasn’t one for affection at all. No, if anyone touched me it was because they wanted sex. Nothing more.

      I tried to ignore the way her fingertips felt like flames, searing my flesh, and concentrated on getting us into the en suite bathroom.

      It had a huge white-tiled shower and I carefully put Poppy down on the side of the bath before going and turning it on. Then, while the water heated, I stripped.

      She watched me, her eyes widening with obvious awe, and I wasn’t too proud to admit that I liked it. Liked that she liked what she saw.

      ‘Come on.’ I pulled her to her feet. ‘Let’s get you warm and clean.’

      ‘I am warm.’ Her voice was slightly husky. ‘And I’m not dirty either.’

      But she didn’t protest as I ushered her underneath the warm water, giving a sensual little shiver as it cascaded over her, turning her hair into a skein of liquid black satin flowing down her back.

      I picked up the bottle of shower gel and pumped some into my hands, then touched her smooth wet skin.

      She groaned and leaned back into me as I ran my palms down her spine. ‘Oh, that feels good.’

      There was something calming in taking control of her and there was something calming in taking care of her too, and for a moment I simply stopped thinking, consumed with the simple task of washing her beautiful body.

      ‘Why did you make my word seven?’ she asked sleepily after a while, breaking the comfortable silence.

      The question took me by surprise, so much so that I found myself answering before I could think better of it. ‘It’s the name of a...dog I befriended when I was a kid. Seven was my lucky number.’

      ‘You had a pet?’

      ‘Seven wasn’t a pet. At least, she wasn’t mine. She was a stray.’ Small and white and ragged round the edges, she was a mongrel with bright black eyes. ‘She was afraid of people, but I managed to make friends with her.’ My small triumph. I’d never forgotten the way that dog had finally let me stroke her, after weeks of slowly gaining her trust.

      I’d always wanted a pet. Something that was mine. A little sister. A friend. Someone. But Dad had kept me isolated because it had made me easier to control. Isolated even from my own brothers. That had changed when Ajax had first come to me when I was twenty and he’d told me those financial games I’d been playing were real. And that he needed my help to take Dad down.

      It had taken us years to finally do it, but take him down we had, and we’d grown closer since then.

      Even so, I still didn’t have anything that was mine. Nothing but money. That had always been enough in the past, СКАЧАТЬ