He Banned a Baby in Our Contract, Then Found His Daughter novel · Chapter 4 of 24

Chapter 4: Hands on the Headboard

I opened his bedroom door at two in the morning and didn't knock.

He was awake.

He lay on his back in the big bed with one arm behind his head.

The grey light from the harbour came through the curtains and showed me his bare chest.

"Rule two," I said.

"Rule two," he agreed, and his voice was rough. "Is this you starting it?"

"Yes."

I shut the door behind me and turned the key.

I was wearing his old grey T-shirt and nothing else.

I watched his eyes go down the length of me and come slowly back up.

"Hands on the headboard," I said.

He didn't move for a moment.

Then he reached up and took hold of the carved oak rail above his head with both hands.

"Stay there," I said. "If you let go, I stop."

"I won't let go."

"We'll see."

I pulled off the T-shirt and dropped it.

I crossed the room naked, and he watched every step, with his jaw set.

His knuckles were already pale on the oak.

I knelt on the bed beside his hip and laid my hand flat on his stomach, low.

The muscle jumped under my palm.

He was already hard against the sheet.

In the contract year he had always been the one who moved, who turned me and told me where to put my hands.

I had never seen him lie still for me.

I liked it a great deal.

"Look at you," he said, low. "Christ."

"Don't talk unless it's to tell me how it feels," I said.

"Is that a rule?"

"It's a request," I said.

He laughed, a short breath through his nose.

It caught in his throat, because I had bent and put my mouth against his hip bone.

I kissed my way across his skin.

I kissed up the line of hair below his navel and across his ribs.

I took my time.

I took his nipple in my mouth and he swore.

The headboard creaked under his grip.

"That's good," he said. "God, that's good."

"Keep your hands where they are."

"I'm trying," he said.

I swung a leg over his thigh and sat on it.

He was hot and hard under me, and I was already wet.

I rocked, and dragged my clit slowly along the muscle of his thigh.

A sound came out of me that I had not planned to make.

His eyes dropped to where I was moving.

"Christ," he said. "Millie. I can feel you."

"I know you can."

"Let me touch you," he said.

"No."

"Let me put my mouth on you, then."

"Not tonight," I said.

I rode his thigh a little faster and left a shining wet track on his skin.

He watched it, with the rail creaking and his teeth bared.

I stopped before I got too close.

I wanted him to remember who was keeping the time.

I went back down the bed.

I pushed the sheet away and he lay bare under me, thick and flushed, with a bead of wet at the tip.

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