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Discipline like that for me is private, and this isn’t the place.
When we’re on the floor where the bedrooms are located, I push her into the wall and start to kiss and suck at her throat. I work a hand between her thighs and plunge two fingers into her tight wetness. She spasms almost immediately, her moans the sweetest music.
I slick my tongue over the outer shell of her ear and bite down on the lobe. Starting to build her to a real orgasm, I deliberately push and pull my fingers in that way she seems to like. Rubbing her G-spot each time, teasing her clit every third plunge into her. Because I want her on the edge, I want her teetering.
I want to stretch it out and take it away until we’re in the room.
But she starts to gasp and writhe on my fingers, getting herself off. She’s still too new at all this. Sex. She’s still new at sex on the basic level, let alone the game we’re playing.
I let her come. There’s a thrill in her lack of discipline, of the fact she’s too turned on by me to hold back.
Still, I didn’t tell her she could.
“Bad girl.” I lick the side of her neck and she shudders and comes again on my fingers. “Now listen…” I move through her orgasm, and as she tries to pull free as she comes down, I don’t let her. I can’t.
They have regular cameras in the hallways, but they’re not wired for sound. They’re only interested in watching the debauchery, not hearing it. So right now, I’m buying time.
“Stop, stop, please.”
“No.” I bite her ear again, but I slow down, stroking over her clit’s soft, wet hood, and she moans a little. “Listen to me. We need to buy time. I’m sorry I put you in that room with those animals.”
“Sorry you shoved my bikini in me?”
“I’m not sure if you want the fucking truth. Because it was hot. But right now, we need to play. You get one glass of champagne. Sip it slow, fast, whatever. But don’t touch the second one because it’ll be drugged. In about fifteen minutes, you’ll pass out. And I’m going to touch you, prep you, and then at one a.m., which is in twenty minutes, the cameras will go out. After that, we have ten minutes to get out of the house. Unseen.”
“Unseen…” I stop touching her clit to let her think. Her brows furrow. “In this dress?”
I flip her so her face is pushed into the wall and I’m touching her from behind. “I’ve put clothes downstairs. And we’re taking the servants’ stairs.”
With that, I drag her into her room.
She’s nervous when we get in here, and I let her ride that because it fits the scene I’m going for. I pop open the champagne and hand her the glass. The drug will go into the next glass.
I lie on her bed, making her sit on me, her naked pussy against my erection and honestly, I’m not sure if I fucking want it free or confined.
Dakota’s still jailbait. She’s still off-limits, no matter what I’ve done with her, because of who her father is. And she still represents everything I hate.
One of the reasons I hate it is I used to be her. God, I hated the spoiled, pretentious douchebag I used to be. Until the shit went down with Mercer. Until I joined the armed forces and then chose to officially die so I could take on the deep Black Ops work.
And then I lost Josefina.
Because of rich, entitled people like Dakota and my former self, Jaxson Gardner.
I know I could have walked away from that life when Mercer went down. Taken the wrist slap, but I… I needed to get out of that life and that role. I needed an escape.
I look up at the beautiful innocence of Dakota.
Not even the depraved things I’ve done to her have marred the innocence.
These people would destroy it.
Leave her a shell.
And she doesn’t seem to appreciate how lucky she is to have a rich, powerful father.
“Drink your champagne, it’s very expensive. And then you’re going to tell me exactly how bad you were.”
“I couldn’t do anything with a bikini top in my mouth,” she snaps.
