InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ On My Corner ❯ Breaking the Silence ( Chapter 3 )

Disclaimer: I wish I owned Inuyasha, but I don't…

 

Chapter 3: Breaking the Silence

 

“How much are you willing to give for this?” Allowing myself the chance of getting over paid or turned down completely. Though if he were to leave I know I would follow. Perhaps this can be my first outside of work sexual encounter.

 

Confusion is laced in his features before realization and slight anger take over. Though neither of us attempts to lose our desperately needed contact.

 

“Fuck! You think I want you cause you're a hooker?!” His eyes burn into mine and I lean my face closer to his so he can feel my breath upon his lips. I slide my fingertips from his wrist to on top of his own fingers and put more pressure onto my burning core.

 

“I am a hooker. Whether either of us likes it or not. Although if you spend enough I can spend the night with you inside instead of out here.” His eyes glaze with a mix between strong desire and deep thought. He begins slipping his fingers back and forth along my heat and I lose the last of my control. Crossing the last two inches between us my lips slam against his own. Movement stops at once and I relish in the warm smooth feel of his lips. He moves slowly at first, as if unsure and trying to hold back passion all at once.

 

I barely separate us and more breathily than I mean to say “Let go.” He presses his lips once again to my own and unleashes more passion than I had imagined anyone could posses. My body begins to tingle with want and my entire being focuses on the feel of him that I have craved for so long. His left hand cups my neck and his fingers bunch my hair together. His right hand moves fast along my soaked panties, as his tongue dominates and worships my own.

 

The sound of teens honking their car and hooting at us as they drive by shocks us into regaining our thoughts and fizzles out our rapidly growing need to take each other here on the street.

 

Without any words he removes his hand from beneath my skirt and laces his fingers with my own in order to pull me toward the parking garage. I follow without a single thought of questioning him. I am already his to do with as he pleases. The smirk he gives me as he prevents me from walking into a pole tells me he knows this as well.

 

The jingling of keys and the double beep of his car help me focus enough to get into the car uninjured. My feelings are jumbling together with my thoughts as I try to figure out where this is headed and why. He said he doesn't want me as a hooker. Is he just saying this to get a free night? He never glanced at me before, why the sudden interest. I remind my self of my own rules; not to let emotions get involved AT ALL during work. Other wise I would have been crushed years ago. Learning to become emotionally unattached took a long time and I learned a painful lesson on why that is so important within the first year I was pulled into the nightlife. I give my thoughts a voice as he pulls us out of the underground parking.

 

“Why?” I automatically flinch at the nervous and quiet sound of my voice and move barriers back up that I didn't realize had been brought down. The cause of my vulnerability turns his golden depths towards me. Confusion plain by the furrowed brows and attempt to read my thoughts. I could tell it wasn't working and attempted to help him along.

 

“You said you don't want me just because I'm a hooker. Why else would you speak to my after so many years of silence?” The shy nervous look he gives me, before trying to cover them once again with arrogance, makes him look like a high school boy with a crush he's afraid to reveal.

 

“Keh. Who says I want you just for sex?” I'm shocked at this. No one, in going on 18 years, has wanted me for anything but a sexual favor.

 

“Don't think much of yourself do you?” Snapping back to conversation I try to find out what it is he wants.

 

“So you think more of me?”

 

“Keh. So why are you always by yourself. I mean don't most hookers stick in groups where they `work' or something?” A memory of me beating to a pulp some bimbo commenting on my first attempt at picking up some sleazebag pops into my head.

 

“I don't have the patience to deal with those air heads.” Somehow I have always managed to separate myself from other `creatures of the night' as well as their drug policies. Of course Shippo is the reason I avoid that part of the job. I want to go to the shabby run down apartment my son, a friend, and I call home, instead of partying when there is nothing to celebrate.

 

“So are you going to tell me why you want more from me than sex and we don't even know each other.” Though you have always been there for me, I add in my head. This man would go through so much crap just for being a half-demon, yet he just blows them off and keeps going. I've seen the strength in his eyes and it was the motivation I needed to go on and not let everything overtake me.

 

“You look so damn lost all the time,” He said this gruffly like its my fault he's concerned about me. I vaguely question my willingness to believe his every word, but brush it off as no one with that many open emotions on their face could be out do deceive me.

 

“This is my place. I'm not paying you, but you can spend the night and eat something before you starve to death.” The large mansion we drive up to has me convinced I'm dreaming. Nothing in my life could look this beautiful.