Free DangeroustoKnow by Lily Harlem Page A

disdain.
    “Hey,” I said, tugging at my glossed bottom lip with my
teeth.
    He poked his tongue out of the corner of his mouth and
stroked the seam as if capturing an invisible crumb. Turned back to his
newspaper.
    A native New Yorker then, typically wary of anyone speaking
to him without good cause. That was a bonus, a New Yorker would work for me. In
fact, it would suit very well.
    “Do you live around here?” I asked.
    His gaze slid back to me, traveling up my bare legs, over
the obscenely short hem of my skirt, lingering for a moment on my braless chest
and my protruding nipples before resting on my face. “What’s it to you?”
    Oh my God, his voice. He was not a New Yorker. His grating,
sexy drawl held a hint of musicality—European but not English—Eastern Europe
perhaps. I’d so not added that into my musings of him, but it was perfect,
sublimely perfect.
    “Just making conversation,” I managed, trying to keep cool
even though heat was spreading up my back and chest.
    “I don’t want conversation.”
    “So what do you want?” He was a man. There was one thing men
always wanted.
    He huffed and drew on his cigarette. The end burned bright
and crackled faintly. “Nothing you could give me.” Smoke trickled from his
mouth between his words.
    Glancing over his shoulder, I was relieved to see there was
no one on the path. What I was going to do next was for his eyes only.
    Quickly I slid my butt around on the bench and folded my
legs the way I used to when I was a little girl, ankles crossed, knees sticking
out to the sides. My heart pounded and I was aware of my labia peeling apart
and cool air washing around my gaping entrance. The sensation thrilled me
utterly, and I pushed out my modest chest, resting one arm along the back of
the bench, fingers pointing toward him. For all the world acting composed and
calm when inside, a turmoil of excited, filthy lust raged.
    His gaze dropped to my bare pussy, exposed and no doubt
shimmering with moisture. He appeared remarkably unfazed by my bold display,
his expression lazy and languid. But his casual attention was a heated caress,
burning into me, licking me as if with real flames of fire. If just his vaguely
bored study could have my clit swelling from its hood, I couldn’t imagine what
a touch from him would actually do.
    “Are you a whore?” he asked.
    Oh, the way he said the word whore was delicious; his wide
mouth seemed to pull out the “r” at the end as if savoring it, playing with it.
    “Do you want me to be?” I asked brazenly.
    He shrugged. “Keeps it simple, I suppose.”
    I twitched the side of my mouth into a half-smile even
though I wanted to beam. It seemed I’d just found a man to fulfill my forbidden
desires and make all my bad dreams come true. “Then yes, I’ll be your whore.”
    “Just mine?” He pulled on his cigarette, but this time when
he blew out, the smoke shot from his mouth in a thin stream.
    “Yes.”
    I rubbed my hand over my chest, tweaking my hard nipple. His
gaze followed my movement then slid over my right shoulder. I heard footsteps.
    Someone was coming.
    He glanced back at me, as if daring me to stay in my exposed
position. Always one to rise to a challenge, I kept my legs spread. Willed my
knees to stay apart and my pussy bared. I was desperate to clamp my thighs
together—as a rule, I was not an exhibitionist and had no desire to flash my
cunt to any old Tom, Dick or Harry. But I could and would do this—it was a
means to an end.
    In my peripheral vision a woman appeared. She wore a cerise
cardigan and walked a pale-brown boxer dog. She didn’t pause as she stepped
past us, nor did she look back and notice my bare pussy. Well, why would she?
It was broad daylight, this was a park, why would my intimate female flesh be
on public display?
    He raised his eyebrows and I had a sudden rush of
accomplishment. I’d surprised him—clearly he’d thought I’d tuck myself from
view. Good, I liked to be a surprise.