Page 42 of Danny

“Twenty-five years old,” I murmur, lips brushing her spine. “It’s been through worse.”

I pick up the glass and take a sip. As I put the glass down, I tilt her face towards me. As she parts her lips, I let a drop of the whiskey from my mouth run into hers. She whimpers and clenches as I lean in to kiss her, swiping my tongue into her mouth to taste the whiskey and her.

She laughs—breathless, bright, still impaled on my cock—and the sound settles deep in my chest. I pull out slowly, help her stand, and turn her in my arms. Her face is flushed, hair wrecked, lips swollen. She’s grinning like we just got away with the best crime in the world.

“Okay,” she whispers, reaching up to kiss me. “The wall. The love. All of it. There is one more thing though...” She says cryptically.

“Anything for you, my love.”

“My mom is going to want to meet you as soon as humanly possible. And she wants a Jell-O upgrade at her hospital. She says she deserves fruit pieces.”

I have no idea what that means, but I will literally give this woman the moon if she asks for it.

“Done,” I say anyway.

Epilogue

Anna

Three weeks after the night Danny bent me over table four, I wake up wrapped in his arms, his alarm blaring at the ungodly hour of 5:15 a.m.

"No," I mumble into the pillow.

"I have a call."

"It's Sunday."

"Tokyo doesn’t care." His voice is still gravelly with sleep.

"Tokyo has calendars, Danny." I grab his arm before he can slip away and pull it back around my waist. "Stay."

He exhales, long and defeated, then buries his face in my hair. I feel the fight leave him.

"Ten minutes," he bargains.

"Twenty."

"Anna…"

"You’re negotiating with a woman who has no pants on and nothing to lose. Reconsider your position."

His hand flattens on my stomach, then slides lower, slipping under the hem of the white shirt I stole from him weeks ago and never returned. His fingers trace the crease of my hip, slow and deliberate.

"My position," he murmurs hot against my ear, "is getting a lot better."

His hand dips between my legs and my breath catches. I’m already slick—just from waking up pressed against his warm, naked body. He groans low when he feels it, a rough sound that vibrates against my neck.

"This whole time?" he asks, voice dark.

"You sleep like a furnace. It’s dangerous."

His fingers find that perfect rhythm, stroking me open, teasing. I push back against him and feel his cock, hard and ready, nestled against my ass.

"Danny…"

"Mm?"

"I want to be on top."