Chapter 13: Terms Broken

He kissed me back hard, and he did not hold anything in.

His hands came up into my hair, and the last of the pins went skittering across the tar.

I did not care about the pins.

I bit his lower lip, and he made a low sound in his throat that went straight through me.

"Margo," he said against my mouth. "Your terms."

"My mother is out of that bed," I said. "She is standing in your living room in her coat."

"That is a technicality."

"It's the best one I have."

He laughed, and then he stopped laughing, because I had my hands under his shirt.

His stomach was hot and hard, and he flinched when my cold fingers found it.

"Not here," he said. "It's forty degrees and there's a nurse downstairs."

"Then where?"

He took my hand and led me down the iron stairs, past his own front door, to the dark back room of the shop.

He did not turn on the lights.

The only glow came from the street through the front window, orange and low.

There was a long workbench along the wall, cleared of cable, and a leather couch that had seen eleven years of clients waiting for their cameras.

I shoved him down onto the couch, and he went.

"I'm in charge," I said.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Don't call me that."

"Yes, Margo."

I stood over him in my blouse and my trousers, and I took my time.

I undid the buttons one at a time, and watched his eyes follow every one.

I dropped the blouse on the floor, and then my bra, and the cold air raised my skin.

"Jesus," Hoyt said, very quietly.

"You can touch me."

He did not move at first.

Then he sat forward and put his mouth on my breast, and his hands came around my back, and I forgot how to stand.

I held his head against me with both hands.

He took his time with it, his tongue slow and warm, his teeth just once, and I heard myself say his name.

"Louder," he said into my skin.

"Make me."

He did.

He sucked hard, and I gasped, and my knees went out from under me.

He caught me and pulled me down across his lap, with my legs on either side of his.

I could feel him through his jeans, thick and hard against the seam of my trousers.

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