Текст книги "Haunting Adeline"

Автор книги: H W Carlton

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Текущая страница: 18 (всего у книги 31 страниц)

Chapter 24

The Manipulator

“I s there anything I need to know before you bring me into the pit of snakes?” I ask as Zade drives up to the valet parking.

Valet parking at their own damn house. This shit should be illegal.

“In here, my name is Zack Forthright. I’m a self-made millionaire and have my own company for web design. We live in Parsons Manor together and are a happy couple, but I sneak around on you and go to gentlemen’s clubs without your knowledge.”

My eyes snap to his. He’s been going to gentlemen’s clubs?  As in, the clubs that offer up women on a silver platter for men to get their rocks off to? Rich people gentlemen’s clubs at that—ones occupied by corrupt sadists. Who knows what happens in those places to those poor women?

Sensing my thoughts, he smirks. “Before you judge, I have not and will not ever indulge in what they offer there, and eventually, I’ll get all those girls out. But they don’t know that. Don’t be jealous, little mouse. No one will ever be capable of getting my cock hard except you.”

The heroism wars with his imprudent assumption. Part of me wants to melt, while the other stiffens into granite at being accused of such a thing.

I roll my eyes. “I’m not jealous,” I snipe. “And it sounds like you just have erectile dysfunction to me.”

He bites back a grin, a knowing look gleaming in his eyes. His voice deepens as he drawls lazily, “Keep it up, and you’ll be choking on those words when my cock is filling up your throat again. Everyone passing by will see me fucking your filthy little mouth, and there won’t be a single person in that house that won’t be aware of it by the time I’m done.”

I scoff, turning my head away from him. Only to hide the blush that I feel creeping up my cheeks and the sharp thrill chasing the nerves down my spine. I still feel the phantom bite of metal from his belt buckle around my neck, and I know with absolute certainty that Zade would follow through on his threat if I pushed.

Dickhead.

He continues as if he didn’t just serve me the most delicious threat I’ve ever heard. “Don’t speak of your personal life. Nothing that means anything to you anyways. You’re here to get information on Gigi, and that’s incentive enough.”

“Incentive?” I interrupt, whipping my head back towards him.

“You’re walking into the viper’s pit because Mark found something that you care about and is holding it over your head,” Zade explains plainly. I snap my mouth shut, contrite and a little worried.

“If he finds out anything else you care about, that will be something he’ll use to his advantage if he’s given the chance.”

My mouth falls back open. “But don’t worry,” he says, cutting in before I can demand that he take me home. “I’ll flay his skin from his body before he can even think to do anything to hurt you.”

With that, he opens the door, gets out and throws his keys at the waiting valet, shutting the door firmly and cutting off any questions I had on the tip of my tongue.

For starters, can I go home now?

I’m asking myself if solving Gigi’s murder is worth involving myself with dangerous people. But it’s too late. I’m here, and I’m bound and determined to get at least a few more of my questions answered before Zade takes me home.

I have the feeling that not only am I putting my safety in Zade’s hands tonight, but my life.

Because I’m walking into a house owned by an evil man, I don’t need Zade to spell that out for me.

Zade opens my door and holds out a hand for me to grab onto as I slide out of the car. Electricity explodes from where his hand grips mine, and all I really want to do is guide his hands to other parts of my body.

I suck in icy air, the cold offering a balm to my insides, and allowing me enough clarity to concentrate on everything else besides the domineering man beside me.

Mark’s house is ostentatious. A massive white monstrosity with five huge pillars and a million windows. In my opinion, the house is ugly, typical and downright boring.

The inside is even worse. I walk into a large, wide hallway with picture frames lining either side of the wall of who I assume is Mark’s family. My heels click against the ivory tile, and I can’t help but think it’s going to turn brown after all the shoes that’ll be treading across it.

We’re ushered by a butler down the hallway, past an all-white kitchen and into a ballroom.

An actual fucking ballroom.

The kind you see in movies set back in the 1800s, when finding your future husband or wife depended on going to a ball.

Three massive chandeliers dangle from the gold ceiling, arches of intricately carved wood between each fixture. The floor is a sparkling ivory, the little flecks glinting off of the chandeliers nearly blinding me. It’s like looking into the damn sun.

“Fix your face,” Zade murmurs from beside me. It’s not until he speaks that I realize my face was screwed up into a look of disgust.

Not because the place is ugly, but because it’s so damn… pretentious and flashy. I don’t need to see the rest of the house to know that the place screams look at me, I have a gazillion dollars and have no intention of sharing the wealth with the millions of starving families around the world.

But what do I know? I’ve always wondered if the people who have the money to feed the entire world population are allowed to. All governments are corrupted. Maybe if you try to save the world and actively steal money from the rich’s pockets, you’ll wake up dead one day.

I smooth out my face, donning a blank mask as I look around at the hundreds of people occupying the ballroom. Everyone is dressed to the nines, the guests ranging from young adults to people who look like they’re on their deathbed.

Zade holds out his elbow to me, and every signal in my brain tells me to snub the request. But that’s pride speaking, and I’m not in a good position to let pride get the best of me. I loathe to admit it, but I’m safer attached to Zade.

Stiffly, I grab onto his elbow and lean into his side. It feels like hands smoothing into wet clay. No matter the divots in our bodies, we mold together perfectly.

Ugh.

For the next hour, we mingle around the ballroom, talking to random people, many of them familiar faces  I’ve seen on the news, arguing over bills and laws that usually do nothing but flatten Americans further under their thumbs.

Zade is charming, his demeanor calm and slightly reserved, but still manages to draw people in until they’re hanging on every word he says.

Most of their eyes linger on his scars. Questions on the tip of their tongues that never see the light. You’d think it’s because it’s a rude question to ask, but really, it’s because Zade carries intimidation around with him like a woman with a designer purse.

Despite that, he’s a sight to behold as he works the room, gaining these people’s trust and interest in a matter of minutes.

I’ve no idea who’s involved in Zade’s mission and who’s not, but he looks at each and every one of these people as if he knows exactly who they are and their entire life story. Maybe that’s how he sucks them in so profoundly—he makes them feel like they’ve known each other for years.

I, on the other hand, am not a natural. The social anxiety licks at my nerves, keeping my heart rate well above a normal pace. I smile at the strangers and laugh at everything they say, doing what I do best and manipulate people’s emotions with my words. I pretend they’re all avid readers, and the words I’m speaking are printing on blank sheets of paper for their greedy eyes to consume.

Somehow, it works to the point of discomfort as all of their eyes are ensnared on me as I answer their questions about my career. I heed Zade’s advice and keep it all vague and surface-level but find pretty words to make my life seem more interesting than it is. Even Zade appears to struggle with looking away, and the notion gives me a small bit of confidence.

But on the inside, it feels like my stomach is a black hole, crumpling my insides like a wadded-up piece of paper.

On several occasions throughout the hour, Zade wraps his arm around my waist and squeezes, his grip firm and reassuring. Those small touches are anchors, leveling my head and reminding me that I’m not alone.

Mark seems to appear out of thin air, joining the two couples gathered around Zade, listening to him speak about some interaction he had with another senator. I guess the story is supposed to be funny as the couples are both tittering out laughs, but I can barely digest a single word he says.

“Zack! Adeline! I’m so glad to see you two made it,” Mark announces boisterously, interrupting Zade’s story. He doesn’t seem the least bit bothered. I have a feeling the tale was fabricated entirely anyway.

Seems I’m not the only one good at bullshitting.

“Mark,” I croon joyfully, as if this man’s face brings me any type of delight. He eats it up as he shakes hands with Zade and offers me a warm hug.

Or what’s supposed to be warm. It feels like hugging a cold-blooded reptile.

Next to Mark must be his wife. An older woman with beautiful red hair—the color of ripe cherries—matching red lipstick, and a black dress that seems to hang on her frail body.

She widens her lips into a beautiful smile as Mark introduces her to Zade and I. What irks me is he doesn’t tell us her name, he just says my wife. As if she’s merely a possession and not her own person with her own fucking identity outside of her marriage to this wretched man.

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Adeline. I’m Claire,” she says, gripping my hand in a light handshake. She offers the introduction to Zade as well, and the devil takes it a step further and kisses her hand, trapping her gaze into his own.

It wasn’t sensual by any means. Something about it seemed comforting, like he was making her a promise that even she didn’t know she needed.

Claire’s smile wobbles and she gently pulls her hand from Zade’s grip. No one except my shadow and I seem to notice her hand curling into a tight fist to abate the shaking.

She’s nervous. Scared. And whatever that moment was with Zade, it shook her.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out this woman is abused. My eyes subtly search her body, but the high neck, long sleeves, and full-length dress hide her body. It’s a beautiful dress, but one clearly designed to disguise the bruises that I’m sure are staining her skin beneath the silky fabric.

The other couples meanders off, sensing that Mark is now expecting a private conversation.

“I have a few more guests to greet, but please, I insist you meet me in my study in about an hour and join me for a drink. My butler, Marion, would be happy to show you the way when the time comes.”

Zade smiles, appearing relaxed. Maybe it’s because I've become acquainted with the monster settled between his bones, but I can feel the intent beneath his fabricated ease.

“Of course, be happy to,” Zade responds smoothly.

“Great!” Mark bursts, smiling wide. “And Adeline, I look forward to speaking with you about your great-grandmother.”

He smiles one last time, casting me a lingering look before walking off with Claire in tow.

Zade wasn’t wrong. The man is definitely exploiting the one weakness I have, solving Gigi’s murder. And something tells me he’s going to hang information over my head until he gets whatever he wants.

Problem is, I don’t know what he wants from me. But whatever it is, I have a feeling deep in my bones that it’s capable of ending my life.

Chapter 25

The Shadow

I f I spend another moment in this stuffy ballroom, I’m going to start shooting people just to release some tension. There are plenty of heads in this room that I wouldn’t mind embedding with a bullet.

Addie stands beside me, her tiny hand gripping onto my arm like her life depends on it.

It’s fucking addictive.

“Let’s get out of here,” I whisper in her ear. Her sweet jasmine smell wafts from the juncture between her neck and shoulder, and I have to grind my teeth against the urge to take a bite.

Flashes of her on her knees, that red rose in her hair as she sucked me off with a belt around that dainty neck… fuck.

A growl slips free, and it takes monumental effort to bite back the satisfied grin when I feel her tremble.

Her reaction is more potent than a drug. It drives me deliriously insane, and the need to wrap my hand around her throat and fuck her until neither of us can breathe is overwhelming.

This woman is going to reduce me to an animal.

Her head snaps towards mine, her brows scrunching in confusion and what almost looks like anger. She probably thinks I mean to leave this place entirely and deny her the chance to get information on her great-grandmother.

“Calm, sweet little mouse. I just meant this room.”

She relaxes, her shoulders dropping an inch.

It goes without saying that all guests are expected to stay inside the ballroom. But if staying on the safe side of rules and laws was something I did, I wouldn’t be where I am now.

In a senator’s house with a girl who’s not supposed to want me.

I grab her hand, basking in the feel of her skin against mine as I guide her out of the room. I wait until it seems all eyes have turned away from us and slip through the door and out into a grand hallway.

Now would be a perfect time to search the house, see what I can discover in a pedophile’s safe space. But selfishly, I want to ease some of the building tension swelling in Addie's shoulders.

She’s doing fucking amazing so far. Despite the obvious nerves, she’s managed to make every single person in the room fall in love with her. If anything, her shy, innocent demeanor and suave words are these people’s daily dose of whatever prescription pills keep them sane.

I’m equal parts impressed and perturbed by her. Because all this woman has managed to do is make these people want to see her again. And that’s the last thing both of us want.

I slide out my phone and shoot off a quick message to Jay, asking him to take care of the security cameras. I’ve spotted dozens just from the entrance to the ballroom, and I’m sure Mark has a team actively watching to make sure no one does exactly what we’re doing now.

Mark would be alerted immediately and we would be caught before we even got a chance to have fun.

Jay confirms the cameras are set, and Addie and I take off. Her heels click against the tiled floor as we sneak through the maze of hallways and rooms.

Occasionally, I open up doors and peek inside, finding nothing of interest. That is until we get somewhere far enough away that the noise from the ballroom no longer penetrates the walls.

At the end of another hallway are wide double doors, the cherry wood standing out against the champagne walls.

I head towards the doors, Addie barely keeping up behind me. “Zade, we shouldn’t be sneaking around. We’re going to get in trouble,” she pleads, glancing behind her as if someone is hot on her heels. It’s the fifth time she’s said that since we left the ballroom, yet her eyes are dilated with excitement.

She’s not fooling me when she wears her arousal on her sleeve. She’s scared. Nervous. And that feeling never fails to make her pussy dripping wet.

The girl gets off on fear. The moment I realized she was turned on by the terror I instill in her—there was no chance of me ever letting her go. She was fucking made for me.

“Shh, baby girl,” I whisper, silencing her weak protests. Her mouth audibly clicks shut, and this time I don’t bother restraining the smile.

Too easy.

Gently, I open the doors, sticking my head inside to look around. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust, but my smile widens when I get a good look at the darkened room.

I look back at Addie, allowing her to see my shit-eating grin. Her eyes round and another protest builds on her sharp little tongue.

Yanking her inside, I quickly shut the door behind her and let her take in the room, once more silencing her objections.

A movie theater.

Ten rows of comfortable red chairs line the walls and in front of it is a massive screen, the sides curving to the adjoining walls to fill the viewer’s peripheral vision. It gives the effect that you’re inside the movie, and I know just the type of movie to watch.

I note the padded walls and tightly sealed doors. This room is soundproof, and I’m nearly weak in the knees with how perfect this night is turning out to be.

“Zade, whatever you’re planning…” her voice trails off when I make my way to the projector in the back of the room.

There’s a display screen, showing the controls of the projector, along with thousands of options of movies to watch. Some of these haven’t even hit theaters yet.

I select the latest horror movie, set to come out in a couple of months. Which means Addie hasn’t seen it, and the experience will be entirely new.

Hopefully, it’s a good one and has the desired effect I’m looking for.

“Zade, we shouldn’t be in here,” she says, backing away towards the door.

I chuckle. “Always following the rules,” I observe, messing with the buttons on the screen. “Tell me, little mouse, are you close with your father?”

She sniffs. “Why would you even ask that?”

“Your father is an attorney, is he not? A rule follower. I imagine you got your desire to follow the rules from him, no?”

She scoffs, “No. I didn’t learn that from him.”

I pause to look over my shoulder, giving her a wicked smile.

“You got daddy issues then?”

“I don’t have daddy issues,” she snaps. “I mean, I don’t really. My father has always kind of just… been there. My mother was such a force that he usually faded in the background.” She finishes with another sniff, looking every bit uncomfortable.

“Well, if you didn’t before, you do now,” I drawl, my smile growing as I watch a pretty blush stain her cheeks.

Her eyes round and her mouth drops in shock. I want to stick my cock in it again just to give it a better use. Her skills are very refined in that area.

And thinking of how she refined those skills makes me murderous for a brief moment.

“Are you saying you’re my daddy?” she sputters out incredulously, bringing my attention back to her.

“That’s right, baby. And you’re my good little girl,” I croon, sliding my tongue across my lower lip and looking at her like… fuck. The things I want to do to this woman. Things that would show her just how insane I can be.

“I am not,” she hisses, though the protest is weak.

Leaving the movie for now, I stalk towards her, enjoying the sight of her stumbling away from me and into a wall. If she had the power, she’d burn me to a crisp from the heat in her glare. Good thing she doesn’t realize what power she truly holds yet.

I don’t stop pursuing her until my body is pressed into hers, relishing over the feel of her nipples cutting through her thin dress.

Watching her on her knees for me earlier, sucking my cock like her life depended on it, but yet angry as hell about it—was the most magnificent sight I’ve ever seen.

She wanted her power back in that moment, and I was more than happy to show her that she never lost it. This beautiful woman holds my life in the palm of her hand, she’s just incapable of seeing it that way.

The only one who’s truly in danger is me.

“No?” I whisper. I tip her chin up, brushing my lips softly against hers. The sharp intake of breath has my cock straining against my slacks.

“If you were my little girl, I would worship every inch of your body for as long as our souls are tethered to this earth. My tongue would leave no part of you untouched.” I nip at her bottom lip, wringing a whimper from her throat. “Untasted,” I murmur, my tongue darting out, sliding along the seam of her lips.

My hand slides up to grip her dainty throat, and I can’t stop the deep growl from forming. My fingers nearly wrapping around the entirety of her neck.

I could snap it so easily. Bruise it. Leave my mark with my tongue and teeth.

“If you were my little girl,” I breathe, desire growing dangerously high. “Your sweet little pussy would be so full of me, you would forget what it means to feel empty. I would be inside of you so deeply, you would have to cut me out.”

Then, I bare my teeth, squeezing her throat until her face pinkens, overcome with the thought of her trying to do something so futile. “You would bleed out before that could ever happen.”

“I would do it,” she croaks. I loosen my hand just enough to allow her to continue. “I would take a knife and cut every inch of my skin from my body. So nothing would be left of your touch.”

I cock a brow and grunt my amusement, both turned on and angry from her insolence.

“We’ll see about that—” I lean down, making sure that my lips brush against the shell of her ear. “Little girl,” I finish on a whisper.

Grabbing Addie’s hand, I drag her towards the touchscreen to push play on the movie, and then grab a seat smack in the middle of the front row, forcing her onto my lap.

She tried to sit two seats down from me, but that only pulled a deep laugh from me. Expletives spilled from her mouth in the five seconds it took to wrangle her little body on top of mine.

The surround sound booms with the opening credits, causing Addie to jolt against me. I wrap my arm tightly around her waist, sliding her back until she's molded into me. Her perky ass sits nicely against my straining cock, and the second she feels how hard I am, she stiffens.

“Zade,” she warns breathlessly, though the effect is lost on both of us.

I keep quiet, letting her slowly relax into me as the movie starts to play. Despite the loosening of her muscles, she’s still on edge. I would bet anything right now she’s high on endorphins from the mix of fear of being caught, the conversation that just transpired, and the movie.

The opening scene is already creepy, setting the tone immediately. Addie wriggles in my hold, her thighs clamped tight.

I let twenty minutes pass, the movie subtly getting scarier. I pay it no attention—all of it has been routed to Addie.

Her wide eyes are hooked onto the screen, her breathing is escalated, and heart pounding against her chest. The first jump scare has her yelping, nearly jumping out of her own skin.

Beneath the flickering light, I watch her skin grow flushed with desire and a small bead of sweat forms on her hairline.

“Are you even watching?” she asks, her voice a mere octave above a whisper.

“Yes,” I murmur, my voice deeper and hoarse with need.

Her breath stutters and her eyes slowly slide towards mine. Those rosebud lips are parted as she stares at me with unbridled heat.

Gliding my tongue across my bottom lip, I wait until her gaze has been hooked onto the act before I fist the soft fabric of her dress and hike it up until it’s pooled around her hips.

“Stop it,” she pants, but I don’t listen. She swats at me, but those tiny hands are no match against mine.

With wicked intention, I slide both of my hands in the crease of her thighs and jerk them apart.

Her hands snap to my forearms, gripping tightly as if to stop me. But she doesn’t fight against me, even as I spread her thighs so far apart, each leg rests on either chair beside us.

“What are you doing?” she gasps, staring at my creeping hands with trepidation. I lift one to grab her by her jaw and force her face to the screen.

“Watch the movie,” I growl.

A creature in the movie pops out, diverting Addie’s attention enough to scare her again. A startled scream rings out as she shrinks away from the screen and deeper into my hold.

I groan, the feel of her ass digging into my cock nearly blinding me with pleasure and need.

The tips of my fingers glide across her creamy thigh, causing her to shift against my touch with restless desire. The creepy music from the movie builds to a crescendo, sending her heart rate to dangerous levels as a person is chased down by something from your worst nightmares.

“Zade,” she pleas breathlessly, desperate for something that she’s not capable of putting a name to.

I glance down, biting back a groan when I see her bare.

"This might not end well for you," I muse.

She stiffens. “Why?”

“Your cum will be leaking down your legs when we’re done,” I hum. “How scandalous.”

"I’d rather have wet thighs than have panty lines with a dress like this.”

My fingers softly brush against her folds, reveling in the cream gathering on my fingers. I keep my touch light, depriving her of truly gaining any pleasure.

“Zade,” she bites out, her voice more forceful and demanding. I smile, refusing to give in.

“Are you watching the movie, Adeline?” I ask harshly. “Don’t make me tell you again.”

Her eyes snap to the screen, another gasp pulled from her painted lips when the creature brutally slaughters a person.

Her pussy pulses, juices gushing from her slit and over my fingers. I groan, fighting the impulse to plunge my fingers into the depths of her pussy and feel her come all over me.

My tongue darts out, licking along her neck and inhaling her jasmine scent. Tasting the saltiness from the thin layer of sweat coating her skin.

She tastes so fucking delicious. My mouth waters with the need to lap up the arousal soaking my hand. I deny myself the pleasure, keeping my hand glued to her weeping little cunt.

Giving in to her silent plea, I swirl the pad of my middle finger on her clit, giving her just enough pressure to cause her head to kick back with bliss.

This time when she whispers my name, it’s full of pleasure.

A scream from the movie startles her, and her head snaps upright once more.

“S-someone could come in,” she croaks, my ministrations steady and firm. When I pinch her sensitive clit between my fingers, her eyes cross, a sexy moan releasing from her parted lips.

“Does that make your pussy wet?” I implore, continuing to rub her clit with my finger. “Does the knowledge that someone could come in any second and see you spread open for me turn you on?”

She shakes her head, denying the truth as much as she denies how much she wants me.

“The fear of being caught with my fingers deep in your pussy—” I pause to drive home my point, plunging my middle finger inside her and wringing out a sharp cry– “it makes you want to come so badly, doesn’t it?”

I add a second finger, fucking her in quick hard strokes. Her breath sharpens, and her moans heighten as she draws closer to an orgasm.

My eyes shift back and forth between what my fingers are doing to her and her face. Her eyes have long since dropped to my hand, defying my orders once again.

Mid-stroke, I withdraw my fingers and grab her face with my other hand, roughly squeezing her jaw in my grip. She mewls, crying from both the loss and the pain lancing through her face.

I deliver one quick, sharp slap to her pussy, enjoying the startled cry of pain that sneaks past her lips.

“What. Did. I. Say?” Her chest heaves, and her hips buck against the air, desperate to feel my fingers filling her up once more.

“Watch the movie,” she answers, sucking her lip between her teeth as her glazed eyes focus back on the screen.

“Were you listening?” I growl, refusing to touch her needy pussy.

“I—no. I’m sorry,” she says quietly, a deep crease forming between her brows. Her apology didn’t settle right with her, so to abate the sobering thoughts, I plunge my fingers back inside her.

A long moan releases, but her eyes stay glued to the screen.

“Good girl,” I praise, feeling the answering clench around my fingers. “If I catch you disobeying me one more time, you won’t get to come. Am I understood?”

She nods, the movement choppy and strained against the force of my fingers clutching her cheeks.

Releasing her face, my hand drifts to the front of her dress, tugging down harshly. The fabric holds tight beneath her tits, forcing them to swell. Groaning, I cup a full breast in my palm, squeezing tightly before kneading the sharpened point of her nipple between my fingers.

I resume my ministrations with the hand between her thighs, keeping my thrusts slow and languid. Drawing out her pleasure and wringing more delicious moans from her mouth. Her eyes droop into a half-lidded state, but they don’t stray from the screen.

Loud, wet noises war with the sound from the movie as my fingers dip in and out. She’s so fucking wet. She’s creating a pool on my slacks and the seat beneath us.

I trade between biting and licking at her neck and whispering words of appraisal in her ear. This time, I want her orgasm to build at a slower, more painful pace. It’ll gradually creep up while feeling so far out of reach.

“This sweet little pussy is so fucking needy for my fingers, isn’t it? Do you feel how tightly you’re gripping me? I have to fight just to withdraw my fingers so I can fuck you with them.”

A sinister vibe emanates from the screen, and Addie’s pulse seems to become even more erratic.

“Zade, please,” she begs, her nails biting into my arms. My sleeves alleviate the sting, but the pressure increases until I fear she’s going to start breaking her red painted nails.

My free hand grips her throat and squeezes firmly until her face pinkens, and her breath grows short. Staccato moans bursts from her lips as I increase my pace and firmly rub her clit with my thumb.

“Oh, God—” she sucks in a sharp breath.

“That’s right, I am your God.”

“Zade!” she screams a moment before her pussy clenches onto my fingers so tightly, I can hardly move them any longer.

Her back arches and her head kicks back, past the point of caring about my demands and the movie. A sob wracks her throat as I continue thrusting, riding out her orgasm until her entire body is convulsing and she’s desperately trying to pull my hand away.

“Oh my god, oh my god, Zade, stop,” she chants, her juices flooding so heavily from her core that I feel them spilling past my hand.

Finally, I ease my fingers out, licking them clean as she watches me with a colorful expression. She’s satisfied, but embarrassment, shame, and anger are slowly creeping back in.

Now that she’s coming down from her high, reality is setting in.

I laugh as she scrambles from my lap and rearranges her dress back to its previous state—a tad more rumpled than before but no less beautiful.

There’s a slight wet spot between my legs, but luckily my black slacks conceal it, and most of it got on the seat. I feel the need to leave a hundred-dollar bill for whoever has to clean that.