Page 76

It’s a new experience seeing him like this. The dominant man who had his face buried between my thighs earlier, now looks almost . . . pitiful. He’s powerless against me—and I love it.

Saliva pools in my mouth as I grow hungrier for his cum. I pop off, spit strung between us.

“Now who’s the needy one?” I tease. “Still think you’re in control?”

My hand pumps his length while I suck just below the base of his cock.

“Barely,” he says on an exhale. “Stick your tongue out.” His words are urgent. “Let me fucking see it.”

I sit back on my heels, mouth open while I continue working his shaft. His breath catches and he loses control, filling my mouth with ropes of cum. The sound of his satisfied growl is so goddamn sexy. He cups my chin, admiring his release on my tongue, and I ache with pride.

“That’s my perfect girl. Swallow.”

I close my lips together and follow his command, basking in the glory of the way he looks at me—still like I’m someone to respect and cherish, but there’s an ardent appreciation that’s new, like he’s acknowledging he can worship and indulge my wicked side too.

“Thank you,” I tell him honestly.

He hauls me up to him, picking me up and spinning me so my back is against the tree now. “God, you’re dangerous.” Casper presses his thumb to my chin, parting my swollen, puffy lips and sweeping his tongue against mine—savoring the taste of me all over again.

Based on the moon’s position, it’s sometime around midnight when we fix our clothes and head to his car to warm up. Inside, we hold our hands up to the vents pumping out hot air, rubbing them together while the interior slowly heats.

“Best Halloween ever,” I say, softly.

Casper chuckles next to me, curling me next to him on the bench seat and wrapping an arm behind me. He plays with the tips of my hair. “I have never been such a fan of the color pink.”

“Yeah?”

“I like your soft era.”

My cheeks lift with a relaxed smile. “Me too.”

He tucks me into his side and sighs. “I should probably let you get home so you can rest up for tomorrow.”

My brow furrows. Tomorrow? Does he know about my side job?

“It’s going to be a struggle to remain professional while you’re in my chair.”

My stomach drops. Fuck, the tattoo! First Saturday of the month, how the hell did I forget that? I can’t afford the tattoo right now, nor can I risk the aftercare of it at my job. Panic rises in my chest.

“Wait, you didn’t forget, did you?” he asks.

“No, of course not,” I lie, guilt eating away at me. “I can’t wait.”

There’s no excuse I can give him now that wouldn’t require an explanation. I’ll call early tomorrow morning and say something came up and I’ll have to reschedule. That’s my only out.

Opening the cabinet in my workstation, I remove her private basket of snacks and place them within reach of the chair, then tug on a pair of latex gloves before I begin covering my table in plastic wrap. I whistle while prepping my station for today’s long session with Anna. Even though we were up until the wee hours together, I’m eager to spend the afternoon with her. Maybe we can grab dinner afterward, as long as it’s not one of those awful pizzas she loves; I can’t subject myself to that horror a third time. She’ll probably be wiped out after her appointment, but I could cook for her. She’ll want comfort food . . . Maybe pasta? Even I can’t fuck that dish up.

I set out my ink caps, smiling at the idea. Yeah, I’ll cook her dinner.

In the past, this type of connection would have scared the shit out of me, but last night she let me in. She made it clear where she stands with us, and I trust her. She likes me; she wants to be with me.

It’s not the first time I’ve gotten that from a woman, but it’s the first time I’ve ever felt safe enough with someone to reciprocate.

Frankie, our receptionist, leans into my bay. “Hey, Anna had to cancel her appointment. I went through your recall list. Would you prefer me to book a few of your smaller projects or try to get that guy with the leg sleeve?”

My hands fumble as I frantically fish my phone from my pocket. No missed calls. I check our last text thread. Her last text was yesterday morning.

“When did she cancel?” I ask.