He Bought My Nights in the Dark, and I Hated Him by Day novel · Chapter 2 of 24

Chapter 2: Night One

In the dark, hands and mouth and a man who makes her come before he takes anything; his left ring finger stops a joint short, and Berge texts that the debt is received.

He kissed me before either of us had spoken.

His mouth was warm and sure, and he tasted of coffee and rain.

I had expected a stranger's hands counting out what he had paid for.

I had not expected him to kiss me at all.

My fingers closed in his shirt and I kissed him back, hard.

He made a low sound in his chest, and his hand came up and held the back of my head.

His palm was hard across the pads, and it did not hurry.

I found his buttons in the dark and undid them one by one.

Under the cotton his chest was warm and lean, and he smelled of cedar soap and diesel.

Every man at Fishermen's Terminal smelled of diesel, so that told me nothing.

"Take it off," I whispered.

He shrugged out of the shirt, and I heard it hit the floor.

Then his hands went to the hem of my sweater, and he stopped.

"Yes," I said. "Take that off too."

He drew it up over my head, slowly, and the cold air touched my arms.

I had never undressed in front of a man I could not see.

It turned out there was nothing to be ashamed of when no one could look.

His fingers found the clasp of my bra and opened it with one flick.

He pulled it off my arms and put both hands on my breasts.

I gasped.

His thumbs circled my nipples until they were hard, and I felt the left hand stop short.

The ring finger ended a joint early, a smooth blunt tip where the last bone should have been.

I took his left hand and brought it to my mouth, and I kissed the short finger once.

He went still.

Then he bent his head and took my nipple in his mouth, and I forgot the finger.

He licked and sucked, and his other hand slid down my stomach to the button of my jeans.

"Don't be careful," I said. "I signed. I'm here. Do it."

"I'll do it properly," he said.

It was the first thing he had said, and his voice was low and rough.

He opened my jeans and pushed them down my hips, and I kicked them off.

He lifted me and laid me on the bed.

The sheet was cool and smooth under my back.

I heard him kneel on the floor beside the mattress and take my ankles in his hands.

He slid my underwear down my legs, and I was bare in the dark, with the heater ticking.

"Open your legs for me," he said.

I did.

He put his mouth on the inside of my knee and kissed his way up my thigh, slow, and each kiss was closer.

My hips lifted off the bed.

"Please," I said, and hated how it sounded.

"Not yet."

His breath was hot on my pussy, and then his tongue slid along me, one long lick from bottom to top.

I cried out and grabbed the sheet.

He did it again, slower, and then he found my clit with the tip of his tongue and circled it.

My thighs began to shake.

He pushed one finger inside me, thick and slow, and curled it, and I felt myself clench around it.

"God," I said.

"There you are," he said against me. "That's it. Let me hear you."

I put my hand in his hair and held on.

He sucked my clit into his mouth, gently, while his finger moved inside me.

A second finger joined it.

Then the heel of his left hand pressed flat against me, exactly where I wanted pressure.

I did not know how he knew.

The pleasure climbed in me in hard steps, each one higher, and I was saying something, I don't know what, over and over.

I came with my back arched off the bed and his mouth still on me.

It went through me in long pulses, and he kept licking me through all of it, slowly, until I begged him to stop.

I lay there shaking.

I had never come like that for anyone, and I had been paid four hundred thousand dollars to lie still.

He kissed my thigh and stood up.

I heard the buckle of his belt and the rasp of a zipper, and cloth sliding down his legs.

When he came back onto the bed, the mattress dipped under his weight, and his skin touched mine from my knees to my shoulders.

He was hot, and he was hard against my hip.

I turned toward him and reached down and wrapped my hand around his cock.

It was thick and heavy and smooth, and it jumped in my fist.

He drew a sharp breath through his teeth.

"I don't even know what to call you," he began, and stopped.

"No names," I said. "That was the rule."

"I know the rule."

"Then break something else instead."

I stroked him from the base to the head and felt the wetness there.

He pushed into my hand, once, and then he caught my wrist.

"If you keep doing that, I won't last," he said.

"Good. I want you inside me."

He settled between my legs, and I felt the head of his cock against my entrance, slick and blunt.

He stopped there.

"Tell me to stop," he said, "and I will."

"Fuck me," I said.

He pushed in.

It was slow, an inch and then another, and my body opened for him and stretched around the thickness of him.

I dug my nails into his shoulders.

He went all the way in and stayed, deep, with his forehead against mine.

"Move," I said.

He pulled back and pushed in again, and I heard myself moan.

The second thrust was deeper.

By the fifth I was meeting him, lifting my hips to take all of him, and he was breathing hard against my mouth.

He slid a hand under my thigh and pulled my leg up around his waist.

The angle changed, and his cock dragged across a place inside me that made my eyes roll back in the dark.

"There," I said. "Right there. Don't stop."

"I'm not going to stop."

He found it again with every stroke, slow and deep, and my body tightened around him.

"That's what I'm going to put in you," he said, close to my ear.

His voice shook.

"Every night they circle. I'm going to come inside you and keep it there, and I'm going to do it again until it takes."

The words went straight through me.

I clenched hard around him, and he groaned.

"Say it again," I said.

"I'm going to fill you up. I'm going to fuck you until you're full of me, and then I'm going to fuck you more."

I heard a sound come out of my throat that was not a word.

He drove into me harder, and the bed knocked once against the wall, and his weight pressed me into the mattress.

I wrapped both legs around him and held on.

My second orgasm was building, low and heavy, and it had nothing to do with the money.

"I'm close," I said.

"Come for me. Let me feel it."

He reached between us and rubbed my clit with his thumb, in time with his thrusts.

I broke apart.

My pussy clamped down on his cock in long hard waves.

I cried out into his shoulder, and he shouted something low and wrecked into my hair.

He thrust twice more, deep, and held himself there.

I felt him pulse inside me, again and again, hot.

I held on to him with my arms and legs while he emptied himself into me.

Neither of us moved.

The heater ticked.

His heart was slamming against my chest, and mine was answering it.

He did not pull out.

I felt him inside me, still thick, and then I felt him start to harden again.

"Already?" I said, and laughed in the dark.

"I haven't been with anyone in a long time," he said. "Give me a minute and I'll prove it."

"I don't need a minute."

I tightened around him on purpose, and he swore softly.

He sat back on his heels and lifted my legs, one and then the other, and laid my calves over his shoulders.

My hips tipped up off the sheet.

"Look what that does," he said, and he pushed in.

I screamed into the pillow.

He was deeper than before, so deep I felt the end of me.

Each stroke pressed against a place that made my toes curl.

His hands held my thighs open, and his hips slapped against me.

"Is that where you want it?" he said.

"Yes. God, yes. Harder."

He gave me harder.

The wet sound of us filled the little cabin.

The sheet slid under my back, and I grabbed the bar of the bed with both hands.

"You're going to take every drop," he said, his voice shredded. "You're going to lie there with your legs up and keep it in you."

"Yes," I said.

"Say it."

"I'll keep it," I said. "I'll keep all of it. Give it to me."

He groaned and slammed into me.

My third orgasm took me by surprise, sharp and bright, and I clenched so hard around him that he shouted.

He came a second time, deep, with his hands bruising my thighs.

I felt it flood into me, hot and heavy and endless.

He lowered my legs very carefully and lay down over me.

My whole body was loose and humming.

After a long time he lowered his head, and I felt his forehead rest on my shoulder.

His hand moved slowly down my hair.

I had come in with a plan.

The plan was to lie still, count the hours and get my sister home.

I had not planned on being held afterward.

My eyes stung, and I was glad of the dark.

"I'm fine," I said, before he could ask, and my voice cracked.

He kissed my temple and said nothing else.

At five o'clock the driver was waiting at the top of the stair with an umbrella.

I sat in the back of the car with my knees together, and I felt the heat of him still between my legs.

The wipers went back and forth across the black glass.

My phone buzzed in my coat.

The message came from a number I knew by heart, because it was the one that had called the loft every month for a year.

It said: Received. Collect your sister at the dock at nine. M. Berge.

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