He Bought My Nights in the Dark, and I Hated Him by Day novel · Chapter 3 of 24

Chapter 3: Collect Her

Berge hands Liv back on the dock in front of the whole Terminal, and that night Astrid climbs on and rides the stranger, who refuses to be rough and gives her slow instead.

At nine o'clock on Thursday, the whole of Fishermen's Terminal came out to watch Magnus Berge give my sister back.

Nobody said they were watching.

The deckhands stood on the foredecks with their coffee.

The old skippers leaned in the doors of the net sheds, and the gulls sat on the pilings.

Berge's van backed to the end of Pier 4.

Liv climbed out of it with her duffel and her chin up, and her eyes were red.

Berge got out after her and stood with his hands folded in front of his overcoat.

"Three hundred and twelve thousand dollars, received in full," he said, loudly enough for the boats to hear.

"I'd like to know where a net mender finds that between supper and breakfast."

"My father's life insurance," I said.

"Nils Lunde's policy paid off the Kittiwake and not one dollar more. I read it myself."

He smiled at me.

"A man who pays a debt like that is a man who wants something. I'll find out what."

My mother had come down from the loft office in her cardigan, and she stood with both hands over her mouth.

Ragna Lunde did not cry in public, and she was not crying now.

Liv threw her duffel at Berge's feet.

"Keep the bag," she said. "You've already got everything else."

Nobody laughed, but I heard something move through the crowd on the boats, low and approving.

Berge got into his van without another word.

Liv walked straight into me and held on hard enough to hurt.

"What did you do?" she said into my shoulder.

"I took a job," I said.

"What job pays three hundred and twelve thousand dollars?" Liv asked.

"A long one."

She pulled back and looked at my face, and I watched her decide not to ask in front of Mama.

"Tonight," she said.

"Tonight I have to work late."

She stared at me.

I held it, and I hated myself for being good at it.

I was in the lower cabin at nine, in the dark, with my coat off and my hands bare.

The door opened and closed.

I did not wait for him to find my wrist.

I crossed the floor in the black and found his chest with both hands.

I pushed him backward until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed.

He sat down hard.

"Tonight I go first," I said.

"All right," he said, and I heard him smile.

I pulled my sweater over my head and dropped it.

I unhooked my bra and dropped that.

I stepped out of my jeans and my underwear and stood naked in front of him.

I was close enough to feel the heat coming off his skin.

I put my hands on his face.

It was a strange thing to do and I did it before I could think.

Under my palms I felt a rough jaw and a straight mouth, and I kept my thumbs well away from his eyes.

He did not move.

I kissed him, deep, with my tongue, and he opened to me and let me lead.

His hands rose to my waist and rested there.

"Take your shirt off," I said.

He pulled it over his head.

I pushed him flat on his back and knelt over him on the bed, with a knee on either side of his hips.

He was already hard against my thigh.

I took him in my hand and stroked him slowly, and he arched under me and swore.

"You do that to me," he said, "and I'll go off in your hand."

"Not yet."

I rubbed the head of his cock through my wet folds, over my clit, and the pleasure of it shot up my spine.

I did it again, and I heard him breathing through his teeth.

Then I sank down on him.

It was a long, slow slide, and I took all of him until I was sitting on his hips with him buried to the root.

We both groaned.

"Fuck," he said. "You're so tight."

"You're so big."

I began to move.

I rose up and let myself fall, and he filled me each time, and the stretch and the drag of him made my breath catch.

I braced my hands on his chest and found a rhythm that rubbed my clit against him, and the heat in my belly wound tighter.

His hands came to my hips and gripped, hard.

"Don't be gentle with me," I said. "Please. I don't want you to be careful."

"I'm not being careful," he said. "I'm being slow."

He held my hips still and drove up into me, once, deep, with no mercy at all.

I cried out.

"Is that what you wanted?"

"More."

"No," he said.

He did it slowly, a long, hard, patient thrust, and then he held it, buried inside me, and ground up against my clit.

I whimpered.

"Rough is easy," he said. "Anyone can do rough. I want you to feel every inch of this."

I reached for a name to say, and there was none to reach for.

I said, "Please," instead.

He gave me another slow thrust, and another, and each one was a promise I could not stand.

I was riding him faster now, my thighs burning, my hair falling out of its braid.

I leaned down and bit his shoulder, and he hissed and bucked up under me.

One of his hands left my hip and slid between us.

His thumb found my clit and rubbed it in tight circles, right where I was rubbing against him.

"Like that," I said. "Just like that."

"Show me how you want it."

I showed him.

I ground down on his hand and his cock together, and the slick sound of it filled the room.

He muttered my pleasure back to me in a low voice, every filthy word of it.

"Look at you, taking me. Fuck, you're soaked. Feel that? That's all you."

His other hand slid up my ribs and cupped my breast, and he pinched my nipple hard, and I came apart.

I came with a sob.

My pussy locked around his cock and pulsed, and he held me through it, and he said, "That's it, that's it, I've got you."

I collapsed forward onto his chest.

He did not let me rest.

He rolled us over so quickly that I laughed.

Then I was on my back and he was over me.

He caught both my wrists in one hand and pinned them above my head.

"Now it's my turn to ask for something," he said.

"Ask."

"I want you to say what you want me to do with it."

My whole body flushed.

"I want you to come inside me," I said.

"I want you to fill me up until it runs out. I want to feel you do it."

"Good girl," he said.

He thrust into me fast and deep, and his control cracked, and I loved it.

I wrapped my legs around his back and met every stroke.

"Mine," he said, between his teeth. "For five nights a month, you're mine."

"Yes," I said.

"Say it."

"I'm yours," I said. "Take it."

He came with a shout, buried to the hilt.

I felt the heat spill into me, pulse after pulse.

It set off a smaller, softer climax in me that rolled on and on.

He let go of my wrists and I put my arms around his neck.

We lay there for a long time.

His chest rose and fell against mine.

I had come in believing I would have to give up my body to save my sister.

I had not known I would want to give it.

"Come back tomorrow," he said, finally, in the dark.

Tomorrow was already one of the nights the doctor had circled, and he asked anyway.

"I will," I heard myself say.

I meant it, and that frightened me more than the money ever had.

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