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“What is going on?” she bursts out. “Why are you telling everyone in the government that I’m related to Morgan Speare? Is this-” She chokes a little, her face flushing angrily. Her hands fist in her dress. “Was this a set-up?”
“It is,” I admit, and Clara reels back, eyes widening. I step after her. “But you’re the bait, not the mark.”
“What-”
I wrap an arm around her waist and pull her tight against me. “Why else would I dress you in silk and pearls, and then do this?”
From a hidden pocket in my slacks, I snatch a small knife. With a swipe of the sharp blade, I cut a slit down the side of Clara’s gown. She squeaks and tries to stumble back, but I’ve already returned the knife to its place and thrust both hands under her skirt. Clara has to fling her arms around my neck to keep from falling backward as I lift her off the floor, her legs hiked up around my waist, and she gives a satisfying little oof when I crush her up against the wall.
“Thomas, what are you-?!” She chokes off the second my lips touch her neck, and the tightness that was building in her body all night finally releases. Maybe it flows into me, because I’m already hard between her legs. I roll our hips together, and she groans her encouragement. I run rough kisses up her neck, and shudders go through her in waves. I squeeze her bare thigh in my hand, and her foot kicks out like I shocked her.
She’s so responsive. There’s something dangerous about the knowledge that I can change her mood with a touch. How am I supposed to keep from using this power every time I see that she’s not smiling?
“Thomas,” Clara whimpers, and I suck hard on the crook of her neck and shoulder to let her know I’m listening. “You- You ruined my dress…”
I’ll buy you five more if you want. “I’ll make it up to you,” I growl against her skin. “Loosen your grip.”
Her arms unwind a little from my neck. I hoist her a little higher in my arms, and, using my body to keep her pinned, shift my hands on her legs so I can kneel. She slides a little down the wall, but when she comes to rest, she’s sitting on my shoulders- with my face between her legs.
“Hold still,” I order, and pull out my knife again. Clara jumps, not from the sight of the blade, but from the brush of my fingers on the bare skin of her inner thigh. I wait until she falls still again, then hook my finger in the waistband of her underwear and slice it to pieces.
“Oh my god,” Clara breathes, her voice breaking. “I can’t believe this is happening to me-”
I slide my tongue over the full length of her clit, and she has to clamp her own hand over her mouth to keep from screaming. The other she fists in my hair.
Slowly, meticulously, I work her with sucking kisses until I taste her wetness on my tongue. When I slip two fingers inside her pussy and press against her G-spot, she bucks against my face. Her breaths are shaky and muffled behind her hand. I wish I could be inside her when she hits the peak of her frenzy, but knowing that I can unravel her with just my fingers and tongue is too heady to give up.
Clara’s legs spasm on either side of my head. She starts thrusting onto my fingers, desperate for release, and I match her rhythm. When her whole body coils and goes suddenly boneless, her breath catches, and I half expect her to scream for the whole building to hear.
I half want her to.
Just in time, Clara sinks her teeth into the side of her own hand. Her howl is muffled, but the sound still carves itself into my bones. I slow the pace of my fingers inside her, easing her through the first wave of pleasure, then into a second. Clara’s breath is nothing but hiccups, her body completely boneless against the wall.
There was a point to this, but I’ve lost track of it now. All I know is the taste of Clara on my tongue and the sound of her sobs of pleasure in my ears. I know that I can make her come a third time, and a fourth, if I bury my cock inside her. Next time she won’t have to stifle her cries behind her hand, because I’ll swallow them with a kiss. I’ll reward her sweet mews and sweeter taste by filling her up and up and up.
Fuck the party down the hall and everyone in it. Clara is the only thing I care about right now.
CHAPTER 21
Clara
I am torn in two pieces when Thomas’s body fits itself against mine.
On the one hand, the location and the timing are suspicious. This banquet is an important opportunity for Thomas to network alliances and make a point with his presence. He doesn’t have time to waste ravishing me against the wall of a curtained corner.
On the other? Yes, yes, yes.
Every morning, noon, and night since he fucked me in his car, I’ve wanted him to do it again. My mind has worked through countless scenarios that have left me sweaty and delirious with need. I tried to tell myself- uselessly, stupidly- that I had to forget about it. That it would never happen again. That Thomas had touched the deepest part of me in a last-ditch effort to bring me over to his side, and now that we’re working together, he’s better served keeping me hungry.
But oh, when he sits me on his shoulders and puts his mouth between my legs- Oh, when he drives me over the edge, not once but twice, with the touch of his fingers alone-
Who’s the hungry one now?
Thomas slowly draws his fingers out of me. Swipes over me with his tongue one last time. I’m delirious with bliss as he slips my legs off of his shoulders and tries to set me on my feet. I can’t hold myself up, but that’s okay, because he’s already lifting me into his arms again. I press my face into his throat and breathe nothing but his sweat and cologne.
“Brace yourself,” Thomas says. At first I think he’s promising a punishing ride. But then I realize he has to let go of me to open his pants. With the last of my strength I tighten my legs around him and brace my back against the wall so he can prepare himself for me-
The velvet curtain jerks aside.
