Chapter 18: Ten Minutes

I shut the staff kitchen door and turned the lock.

The tap was dripping again, the same slow drip as the night he held my hand under it.

"Ten minutes," Terrence said. "The nurse said she'd call if Lottie stirred."

"Then we have ten minutes."

"Hannah, this is a hospital."

"You held my wrist under that tap for ten whole minutes and said it was nothing."

"I was lying."

"I know you were. Sit down."

He looked at the plastic chair by the table, and he looked at me, and he sat.

I stood between his knees and unbuttoned his shirt, slowly this time.

He watched my fingers and said nothing.

When I had it open, I put my hands flat on his chest and pushed, and he leaned back against the table with his lips apart.

"Today I'm in charge," I said.

"Yes."

"You don't touch me until I say."

"Yes, ma'am."

I laughed, because it came out of him so low and so sure.

I knelt on the cold linoleum between his feet.

His eyes followed me down, and I saw him understand.

"Hannah," he said, and it was a warning and a plea at once.

I undid his belt and his zipper and took him out, and he was already hard.

He was heavy and hot in my hand, and I ran my thumb slowly over the head until a drop gathered, and licked it away.

He swore, quietly, and his hands closed on the edge of the seat.

I took him into my mouth, and I took my time.

I went slow and wet, as deep as I could, and pulled back to the tip, and went down again.

His hips lifted a little, and he stopped them himself.

"Christ," he said. "You're going to kill me."

I hummed around him, and his head fell back against the wall.

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