Page 54 of Having Henley
Henley.
This is Henley.
My Henley.
I drop her onto her feet and take a step back, my cock seizing in protest from the sudden lack of contact. Being denied isn’t something it’s used to.
Holy shit. What the fuck am I doing?
I bend down and retrieve her shoes. She’s standing over me, chest heaving. Cheeks flushed. Legs shaking. My only solace is knowing she was as close to coming as I was. “I’ll think about it,” I say, even though I have no intention of doing anything of the sort. Right now, I’ll say just about anything to get away from her.
“Think about what?” She sounds dazed. Out of breath.
“Your offer.” I grin at her, shoving her shoes into her limp hands. “Unless you’ve already changed your mind?”
She shakes her head at me. “I’m not going to change my mind.”
Half of me wants to throw myself into traffic while the other half wants to throw her over my shoulder and carry her upstairs and lock the doors. “Well, then—I’ll take it under advisement, and I’ll be in touch. Until then, you can see yourself out.” I turn, forcing myself across the grease-stained concrete to mount the stairs to my apartment, ready to barricade myself inside to keep away from her.
When I get to the top of the stairs, I look over the railing, ready to send her a parting shot. Something pithy and mean, but I’m too late.
Henley’s already gone.
