Don't Look

By: Jessa Kane

The pull of her gaze sucks me in and I go willingly, letting her see everything inside me, hoping she sees a man worthy of her trust. “Yes.”


With one simple word, I’ve handed this man my faith.

I haven’t been given the opportunity to trust anyone in a long time and I’m rusty at it. No, I haven’t tried believing in anyone since four years ago when my mother was killed by a rival organization, my father moving us from New York to Hollywood and immediately putting me in the tower. You remind me too much of her. I can’t look at you. Get out of my sight.

Every year on my birthday, my father lets me out of the room and takes me to a movie, but his jaw remains clenched the whole time. You’re looking more and more like her all the time. You do it on purpose. To torment me.

Bad things happen downstairs in our house. Not that I’ve ever been allowed to confirm with my eyes. There is one heating vent that connects to my father’s office, so I hear snippets of plans, locations, dates. But as far as the revelry I suspect takes place well below my tower, I know nothing about it. Only that women and men arrive in giant groups in the evening and leave looking wilted. Tired.

Or carrying boxes.

Boxes that contain my paintings.

“Goldie,” Mick groans, his right hand landing on my belly, rough and hot. It slides up higher, higher. And just when I think Mick will stop, those fingers travel on beneath my bra, lifting the material and…he’s actually touching my breasts. I bite back a whimper and watch him cup my left breast, then the right. Molding the small globes in his giant hands. “Ah, Jesus. You beautiful little thing.”

There’s a flutter in my belly. “I…am I?”

His touch pauses. “You have no idea you’re an angel, do you? Look like you fell right out of the fucking sky.”

“Thank you,” I whisper. “You look like a bear.”

A masculine laugh bursts out of him and the sound makes me so happy, I can’t do anything but kiss him. I pull his face down to mine and go for it, twining my fingers in his hair for leverage. Mick’s mouth meets mine and he rips the coat off me, his hands seemingly everywhere at once. Kneading my breasts, stroking my thighs, tugging down my chin so he can give me more tongue. There’s a thick ridge beneath my backside and I feel silly for not realizing before that it’s a penis. I’ve seen all sorts of penises on the statues in art books, but I didn’t expect them to come so large. Still, instinct makes my hips move on top of it, round and round until Mick is growling into our kiss.

“I love the way that feels, but you’re going to have to quit it for now.” He struggles to breathe while laying tender kisses on my cheeks and forehead. I try to catch his mouth in another kiss, but I stop to gasp when his fingers slide down the front of my panties. There’s no barrier now. A man’s hand is touching me between my legs. Mick’s hand. “Have you given yourself an orgasm before, baby?”

“I don’t know. Maybe?”

“That’s a no.” He watches me closely, his blunt middle finger pushing apart my wet folds and grazing a magical spot. Magical. Oh Lord. Oh Lord. My eyes roll to the back of my head, electricity curling and twisting in my stomach. “There it is.” He grazes the spot gently with the pad of his finger. “You like when Mick touches you here?”

I barely manage a nod, words getting mangled in my throat. “Y’huh.”

“Good,” he groans, licking at another magical wonderland of nerves behind my ear. “That’s your clit, baby. Might earn me a spot in hell, but this little part of you is my new reason for getting out of bed in the morning.”

“Don’t y-you mean…getting into bed?” I’m confused when he laughs, since I wasn’t joking, but the sound is so wonderful to me, I decide not to question him. And then after a few seconds, I’m not sure I can. There are knobs twisting in my tummy, way down low. and my ears are starting to ring. “Mick.”

“It’s okay, Hailey. Got you riled up in the bar, so it’s coming on a little fast. You’re going to get your first orgasm. And now that you’re with me, it’s going to be far from your last, so let’s get you used to them.” He traps my mouth in a kiss, weaving his tongue slowly with mine. I can hardly concentrate on kissing him back, though, because my clit is sending out these incredible pulsing sensations to my thighs, my nipples. Everywhere. I don’t know if I want to push away Mick’s fingers or beg him to rub me faster. “Goddamn, how’d a man like me get this lucky?” he grinds out. “It’s taking everything I’ve got not to…”

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