NORMALLY, I WOULDN’T be caught dead at one of these black-tie Stonebrook events at the Globe Hotel, but it is the local chapter of the Youths At Risk organisation, and I support it, having been on the receiving end of some of their program.
Tonight, I am giving the introductions for the keynote speakers. I plan on injecting a little humour into the otherwise conservative affair, and loosen everyone’s purse strings to donate more money. Apparently, there have been some last-minute adjustments to who is actually going to be speaking tonight, so I’m yet to be told whom I will be introducing.
"Felicity.” I look up from my champagne glass to see Vanessa Marsden, all mouth and shoulder pads, pushing her way through the crowd towards me. She has had so many facelifts that she will have a beard soon.
Her lips pull thin across her blinding white teeth as she sits down on the chair next to me. “You should be aware we’ve all seen that video of yours at the book club,” she begins in that whiny, accusatory voice that makes me feel like she is sticking pins under my fingernails. She fingers her pearl necklace, giving me a patronising smile. “Honestly, dear, you really should think better of yourself. People like to talk. Could you cope with it all?” I think she almost believes it herself that she isn’t the ringleader of the Bitches of Stonebrook. “What would your grandfather think? Or the charity, no less?” she adds, grinding salt into the fresh wound.
I don’t react at her attempt to belittle my own role within the charity, and for a minute I just sit here, trying to pretend I can't hear her, biting back my pride. A quick glance at my watch, and I realise I've literally now have only fifteen minutes to come up with something both humorous and appropriate for this audience, and I still need to find out who is giving the speech.
I close my eyes briefly and sigh inwardly. If anyone knows what is going on, it will be Vanessa Marsden. I face her with a perfunctory smile. “Do you know who’s giving the speech on the importance of the organisation's activities, Vanessa?”
“Don’t you know?” She pauses. Her face doesn’t move from all the Botox, but I am pretty sure she is trying to lift her brow in surprise. “I thought you two were dating? Seeing each other.” She air quotes the last part. “Or whatever you young ones are saying or doing these days.”
My jaw widens as I twist my head to the podium, the answer to the question already forming on my lips. "You don’t mean…?" And there he is, our local celebrity, standing off to the side, watching me intently from across the large room. For a second, his dark eyes look as though he is aware of my stare, and he gives me a slight smirk.
Lenic has only been away for two weeks, but I’ve missed our breakfast dates. They have become something I don’t want to be without. It doesn’t hurt that his face is too pretty not to admire. His face is the only way to start the day.
I still want to sit on it.
Seeing him now, I realise I’ve felt every single one of the fifteen days Lenic has been absent far more acutely than any other person. I am smitten. No, more than that. I feel possessed, as if some spirit has got inside me and is skipping around my body, bumping into my heart, spinning in my stomach, filling me up with butterflies.
Whenever I breathe in, I can smell him, his scent, like he is a perfume I wear on my skin. I can taste him on my tongue, feel him imprint on my body, all the time. I can’t concentrate on my work; I drove Delphine mad by repeatedly breaking off in mid-sentence and smiling secretively, some memory of Lenic rising up and making rational thought or conversation impossible.
I look directly at him and smile confidently, not about to appear in any way intimidated by his presence. He is handsome enough in street wear, but in a well-fitted suit, he is the embodiment of sex. Most of the women in this room keep giving him triple takes.
I expect that you're-not-funny unhappy look on his face in response to my newest video upload. He appears unhappy, yes, but not in that pissed-off sort of way I am used to.
"Please excuse me. I need to go prepare an introduction," I tell Vanessa, getting to my feet.
Crossing the room over to the bar on the right-hand side, I quickly replace my champagne with a shot of vodka, and roll the tension from my shoulders. I have no idea what kind of reception I am about to receive. I am also wondering if Lenic is aware that I’m the one introducing him tonight. I will bet his sexy tux he doesn’t. My smile widens.
This evening has just got interesting.
When he spots my approach, his eyes track me the entire way. "Lenic," I address him. I try not to let my eyes slide over the way his tailored tux strains across his obvious well-built physique. No one should be allowed to look that good with their clothes on. It should be illegal for Lenic to walk along public streets; he is a safety hazard to women drivers.
"Felicity." His deep brandy-toned voice immediately makes every cell in my body stand at attention. His interested eyes rake over the tight black dress I’m wearing — with a plunging neckline that goes all the way down to my middle — or rather, seems to be wearing me.
I smile, my gaze making it obvious that I also like what I am looking at. “You here with a date?” he asks, almost like he is unable to edit his jealous thoughts and the words spill forth, unbidden.
I wait a long moment to respond, enjoying the view of his jaw stiffening. “No I’m not. You can relax.”
“Good.” He laces his fingers through mine. “You look sexy in black.”
Astonished, I look down.
He is holding my hand.
His fingers feel so good on my skin; so firm and strong, pressing warmly into the palm of my hand, sending his touch all over me. It is more than anything I’ve ever felt before.
Biting the inside of my cheek, I try not to smile as he glances down at me, but it is too late. The same immediate attraction I am feeling shows in his gaze as he holds me at arms length. With any other man, this might feel awkward. It doesn’t. Holding hands with Lenic is as natural as breathing.
“Heard you and Cross are sleeping together.”
“Wh-What?” I sputter.
“Overheard a group of women talking in the White Lily bar.” I roll my eyes. This is typical of the town. “I don’t believe a word.”
“Good. Because it’s simply not true.”
“Also heard you, me, Delphine and Cross had a big orgy on my boat.”
“Oh my god. How could they possibly know?”
“What? You know we didn’t, right?” He shoots me a look. “How drunk were you that night?”
“Seems, not enough.”
He leans in closer, narrowing his eyes, and pitches his voice low. "So, is this it? Are you done humiliating me on YouCube?"
My face is cast in an unholy grin. "Are you not aware?” I fake confusion, my palm rested on my chest. “Has no one informed you?” The crease in his brow deepens and I watch as a certain amount of suspicion plays behind his eyes. He grinds his teeth as he glances at the crowd on the edges of his periphery. “Then, please, let me do the honour. I’m the one introducing the keynote speakers tonight."
My words eventually penetrate, and I watch amused as his lips part slightly. Then he stares at me with distrust in his eyes as I shoot him a wicked smile. "No…" Lenic breathes, his eyes already roving the crowd, likely seeking out someone from the charity to request a change. “Why would they ask you to front the charity? Of all people.”
“They know they can rely on me to protect the reputation of the charity.”
“And who’s protecting me?”
“You don't think I'm going to land you in it, do you?”
“Yeah, the thought is crossing my mind.”
“Unlike some people, I don't allow my personal life to cloud my professional judgment. The charity’s reputation is all I care about.”
“Except, it’s my reputation at stake here too, and you’ve already dragged me through the mud.”
"Are you scared?"
"What?"
"This is supposed to be a charity event. Is your ego so enormous that you're afraid to take a little poking for a good cause?" The smirk on my face tells him I am not going to make this easy.
“The insolence. Have you always had it or is it something you've decided to bless me with?”
“We do things differently, Lenic. I'm a bad habits kind of girl. You salute like a good Marine, whereas I like to give the finger.” I smile up at him. “You don’t need to stress. I’m sweet. The audience loves me.”
“Sweet like poison,” he adds more quietly. And then he gives me this look that is not entirely comforting — a look that has a certain wildness. It is this damn curve of his lips that hint danger.
He takes one confident step closer, the small distance between us evaporating from the thick space of his body. His face gets too close to the side of my own, and I feel stubble and hot breath against my skin, his lips making the barest of contact on my ear. I brace myself … because I know what’s coming. This is the instant where he turns the table of power.
When he puts me under his control.
"I saw the new video, Felicity.” I shrug, unrepentant, but then squeeze my thighs together when he trails a finger lightly across my exposed collarbone. The touch is slow, and painfully arousing. “Think you need a reminder about the ... size of my boat." His husky threat in my ear makes me suck in a shuddering breath and I feel a hot shiver run down the back of my legs.
His lips move to hover dangerously close to mine, pulling away just enough to meet my gaze, the memory of our kiss seared in my mind.
He straightens up, leaving me to stew in the silence. I blow out the breath I had no idea I was holding in. He senses my unease, and something about the predatory glint in his eyes makes my palms sweat a little bit.
I try to hide the effect he has on me, but when he grins, I think how much that lopsided grin of his is an unfair weapon. Every time he flashes it my way, I find I end up grinning back at him like I have no control over myself, or any of the muscles in my face.
He is in control of me, I repeat to myself, and there is not a damn thing I can do about it.
Worryingly, I don’t want to.
Pull yourself together, Felicity.
If one conversation with him sets my underwear on fire, I am going to lose my mind long before tonight’s charity event is over.
Still holding my hand, he leads the way to the podium. We sit next to each other in the two straight-backed chairs to the left of the stage as the head of the charity, Mary Whitethorn, stands behind the podium, thanking everyone for coming and reminding them about the organisation's mission and the need for their generosity this evening.
Something changes in Lenic’s expression when Mary introduces me as someone whom the charity had once helped. His gaze is filled with interest, but it is underpinned with sorrow.
Standing up, I quietly salute The Tempest, revelling in the way the ex-Royal Marine seems to bristle under the implied threat of public humiliation. When I reach the podium, I flash him one last look over my shoulder, the corner of my lips curling devilishly upwards.
I am going to love every second of this.
When I turn back and face the audience, I realise I can’t go through with it. This is a charity that means the world to me, and one my grandpa used to be very fond of too. I know when to back down and when to fight. I can be counted on when things get rough and I’m smart enough to keep my mouth quiet when the occasion calls.
"Good evening. It's good to see some familiar faces here tonight," I begin, "as well as a few new ones. I know many of you were expecting to see the Mayor Philips here tonight. Well ... there he is." I gesture to Lenic. "If you want the name of his plastic surgeon, we will be raffling off the contact information starting at one million pounds later this evening." There is a ripple of interest from the women around us, and a murmur of chuckles filters through the crowd.
Sitting at the front of the audience, Delphine calls out, "That isn’t the Mayor. That’s Lenic Reevus."
I am smiling so hard it almost hurts as I stand here. "That's right. And for two million pounds we will be auctioning off his personal mobile phone number as well as his daily schedule for stalking purposes for the next two weeks."
That elicits more chuckles and more than a few wistful glances cast in Lenic's direction from the mature ladies in the audience. I catch Vanessa Marsden biting her lower lip between her teeth, crossing her legs. Behind closed doors, she is as human as the rest of us.
Lenic simply sits, his face impassive. There is no sign of either amusement or annoyance colouring his features.
"No, but seriously, I'm sure most of you know Lenic Reevus is not only our local celebrity boxer, but he was also a Royal Marine who served and protected our country, risking his own life. And a quick glance around the room, I am happy to see several other Royal Marines have joined us tonight. So consider yourselves lucky to have gotten in this year, because next year, the price per plate is likely to triple as every woman descends on our little event to try and catch our Royal Marines’ attention by any means possible.
“I propose auctioning off tickets to see a wet T-shirt contest between them all, but that will have to be decided by the event organisers. I would like to say we should auction a date with Lenic Reevus, but I have it on good authority that he is not much of a conversationalist. So, we will stick with just trying to capitalise on his pretty face."
A wave of good-humoured laughter spreads through the audience and I notice Cross in the third row down laughing with his fellow Marines. "Since I know that you are all really just waiting for dinner to arrive, I'll cut this short and turn the floor over to Mr Reevus."
There is a polite round of applause as Lenic walks up, passing me on his way to the podium. I am feeling rather proud of myself for refraining from saying anything ignominious.
"Good evening," Lenic addresses the crowd. "Thank you for the ... interesting introduction, Miss Saint James. Evidently her newfound fame online isn’t enough to help her find a date for this evening. Since this is a charity event, we can only hope she’ll finally have a bit of luck finding someone with enough sympathy to help her out for the rest of the evening. And hopefully distract her from her apparent obsession with myself and quit stalking me."
I will kill him.
There is another round of laughter. This time, it is a lot louder than anything I garnered. My whole face flushes with embarrassment, and I bite back a seething glare. I could have gone there, but I held back. Played nice. Sort of.
Lenic spares me only a ghost of a smirk before getting down to business and talking about his personal view of the importance of helping the charity. I am a little surprised at how eloquently Lenic delivers his points. I notice rustles of movement as people begin to reach for their chequebooks, Mary’s face beaming as she collects the donations. Lenic is surprisingly quite adept at this. I wonder why he cares so much about the Youths At Risk mission. And I believe, it isn’t a ploy to promote his boxing career.
Soon there is another round of applause, signalling the end of Lenic's brief speech. Sitting down at our tables for dinner, the waiters start bringing out the first course of the meal for the evening's event. I glance over and see Delphine seated with her date — an investment broker she met recently — on the far side of the room.
The seating for the event has Lenic sitting almost directly across from me with some of the other program sponsors. I am acutely aware of the pair of dark eyes fastened on me as I fall into conversation with Mary. By the time I glance back, Lenic is already involved in a conversation with the elderly gentleman sitting next to him.
Throughout the five-course meal — even though we are sat opposite each other, even though I am damn trying to ignore him for the good of my sanity and libido — we've been giving each other those silent signals that might as well scream ‘let's fuck’ in big capital letters across our foreheads.
Lenic knows a million ways to turn me on and he can be an arsehole about it. He knows that just running a tongue over his lips is enough to make my blood stir. And combining that with a subtle shift of his hand to his hips, to his belt, to let me know that his mind has drifted to sex too — it’s enough to make me drop my underwear for him.
I notice he keeps glancing at the time on his Rolex like he wants the dinner over with as soon as possible. After dinner, everyone rises from their tables to mingle over drinks by the two bars stationed on either side of the room. I peer around my surroundings, searching for the wealthy businessman whom Mary pointed out to me earlier. This is when all the business and networking gets done, and I am hoping to use my charms to get him to sponsor the charity on a long-term basis.
On the other side of the room, I catch Lenic turn away the advances of three attractive women who try to waylay him as he approaches me. I turn, pretending I haven’t noticed his attention. A few seconds later, I feel a hand clamp around my wrist and then I only see Lenic’s back as he pulls me along behind him. Without so much as a word, he forces his way through the crowd, muttering excuses, pulling me out of the main room, and down to the end of a corridor and out through a back exit door.
I suck in a breath when he drags me into the nearest dark alleyway. It is near pitch black against the darkening night, and the cool evening air is a welcoming respite from the day’s humidity.
“You’re nothing but trouble,” he tells me in a husky growl, using his size and legs to pin me beneath him and up against the brick wall. Surprisingly, no fear or alarms ring up inside me, but rather a mixture of lust and desperation.
His lips press softly against the nape of my neck, and I inhale sharply, groaning at the same time. My spontaneous uncontrolled cry gives him the briefest of wicked smiles. I squeeze my eyes shut.
"Can’t get enough of me?" I breathe out, pulse racing. I shiver as his hot breath tickles my skin, his lips barely touching my cheek as they travel teasingly to my ear.
Each touch is pure torture on my heated skin.
“You’re the one obsessed,” he says, his voice low and dangerous, his warm breath blowing on my ear provocatively. I try damn hard to keep my muscles from quivering against the fever running hot through my body, try not to let my knees buckle.
I moan softly as he sucks on my skin, ever so faintly, but just enough to make me want to scream. My breath hitches as his hand tantalizingly goes to my neck, until he is cupping the side of my face. He rests his hand against my cheek, commanding me to look up at him as I lean more and more against the hard brick wall.
My hand immediately falls on his chest, not knowing whether to push him off or pull him closer. He barely has to touch me to light a fire in me. That look, the determined wild look he has in his eyes now, is enough to make me drench my underwear.
"What?” I bite back, finally finding strength to reply. “You're the one who kissed me. You’re the one to push me into this dark alleyway for whatever reason. And there is only one reason to drag a girl into an alleyway, by the way. Unless you're selling me drugs.”
He growls, pushing me deeper into the wall, his eyes looking almost black. "Stop humiliating me online." His voice is low and controlled; there is no venom to his words.
“Do you not like the attention?”
“I don't need five million people watching me bend over in the shower.” He trails his thumb along my lips. Our eyes never leave each other’s, until we are breathing the same air.
“It’s nearly twenty million now — not five. And I think it’s very interesting how you’ve never asked me to take the videos down.”
His fingers press into my skin when his thumb pushes my chin up, lowering his head at the same time. Every nerve and cell comes alive as he closes the distance between us, but the sexy bastard pulls away at the last moment, barely grazing my mouth.
“I’ve had other things on my mind,” he says, almost talking against my lips, but not even touching them. My lips part a little, my tongue darting out for one, quick desperate moment to taste him. He pulls back an inch, smirking at my desperation.
My insides feel like they are going to explode. I feel my whole body tremble as his finger lightly runs down my cheek, before it stops against my mouth. Suddenly, I am hit with his taste, as a finger slips between my lips. Just this brief moment of contact shakes me to my core, a jolt of something so powerful that it causes my heart to suddenly thunder in my ears.
“You like that?” He keeps his thumb firmly pressed against my chin as he slides his finger partly inside my inner lip, before putting his lips on the side of my neck gently. “You like it, don’t you?” His voice is like audible chocolate.
With his other hand, he slowly and teasingly rubs my arm, and every hair on my body rises. I pant slightly, opening my mouth wider, and then he slips his finger out, trailing it down my neck in a firm press. I shiver as he leaves a wet trail, tickling me as he reaches my collarbone with just his fingertips touching me. He presses his lips to my neck again, my heart still beating wildly.
“I know you lie in bed at night … thinking of me.” His smouldering gaze holds mine, daring me to deny the truth.
“I think you're confusing me with you again." There is a thrumming in my ribcage as I suddenly feel intoxicated by the sweet taste of his finger, the fresh scent of his cologne, the very nearness of the promise of all of my darkest desires coming true.
“Liar,” he accuses in a rough heated whisper. “You can't stop thinking about me. That's why you keep humiliating me. You want my attention." The entire length of his body presses harder against mine, holding me fast, but letting me know that there is more to come. Much, much, more. “Standing.” He pins my left arm against the wall above my head. I gasp. “At.” His lips press against mine for a brief second as he grinds his body against mine. “Attention.” I can feel the sharp edges of the brick biting into my back, but more painful is the intense look of desire in his eyes. My entire body becomes liquid fire in his hands.
“I haven't given you a second thought," I insist breathlessly, but my body betrays me as his other hand trails down my neck, in a slow tease, and brushes over the valley of my breast. I open my mouth to protest again, but all that comes out is a pathetic mewling sound.
He kisses me again, with the same slight pressure that drives me crazy before pulling away. He is barely touching me, yet I can feel him all around me.
His hand covers mine and he pulls it up to his lips, my other hand still pinned up against the wall. His tongue darts out and licks my finger before sucking on it. His teeth nip at the skin, his eyes never straying away from my eyes. I moan softly as he presses himself against me.
“Oh God…”
He chuckles softly, briefly. My heart stops momentarily, hearing the sound. The smirk on his face is dangerously sexy as he leans in, his lips back at my ear. "Do you want to hear what you do to me?" he whispers, as his hand travels over to my nipple, teasing it through the thin material of my dress and using the silk to create some friction. "You want to hear what I did the very first night I met you?" I look at him, my eyes hazy, and I lick my lips. "I went to my changing room in the Coliseum, and I got into the shower, Felicity," he breathes, pressing damp hot kisses along the side of my neck and ear. "I turned on the ice cold water and I stepped under … and I just thought about fucking you, over and over and over..."
I am going mad with lust. He is rolling his thumb over my nipple in the same rhythm as he is repeating those words: ‘over and over and over’.
I start to envision him, standing in the shower, running his hand up and down his length. "I know you’re thinking about it, me standing there, thinking of you, trying to hold on to the shower wall with one hand, the other one just running up and down my cock," he says, before he presses his lips against mine.
"I thought about taking you in every which way. Up against the shower wall, over the bar in my private changing room, even on the damn signing table. I wanted you so bad.” I moan out in pleasure at his words, and spread my legs a little. "It was like, I could almost taste you. And I just couldn't stop.”
Tremors run through my body. "Wicked bastard,” I breathe out.
"Do you call out my name when you cum?" His voice is soft and lethal.
“No…” I shiver again, and he smiles against my skin, kissing the flesh to the right of my earlobe. I gasp as pleasure surges through me as he softly sucks with his mouth, swirling his tongue.
He comes back to look at me, his nose rubbing against mine, before taking my upper lip between his. A sudden urge to compete with him rushes through me, and my hand balls up the fabric of his shirt as I move my lips against his, desperate to kiss him.
"Uh, uh,” he says, shaking his head, looking at me like I’ve been a very naughty girl. His hand comes back to cup my cheek, tilting my head upwards to separate our mouths. I moan in protest.
He touches his forehead to mine. “Does your pussy…” he trails off, his hand travelling down my neck to my collarbone, and to the valley between my breasts. He faintly weaves a figure eight against the flesh there, before spreading his hand on my bare stomach. “…gush harder? Is that why you scream my name when you cum?” His lips press into my collarbone before skimming faintly on my breast.
I draw in a sharp breath between my teeth, and it urges him to press against me with what is obviously the increasingly painful reason for his eagerness to find out if I scream out his bloody name.
“No ... I don’t…”
Releasing my arm from the wall, he slowly kneels down until his face is just where my plunging neckline cuts short. I can hardly breathe as he sends butterfly kisses all over, his hands gripping my hips firmly, until one hand slips away to travel up my middle. I close my eyes as I breathe out harshly, feeling him so much.
"We’ll see," he threatens in a gravelly voice.
Oh God…
I almost scream his name when his hand snakes its way into my dress, cupping the weight of my breast in his hand, his other hand pressing in between my thighs. I feel his thumb rotate in tiny circles over my nipple and it hardens immediately for him.
Arching back, my hands fly to his hair, grabbing the strands painfully, like a leash. He hisses, but it turns into a groan as I force him up to take my breast into his mouth.
I feel his hand trail down to the hemline of my dress. I pant for air. His fingers press against my clothed sex again, and a whimper passes my lips. My hands immediately go to my sides, clinging desperately onto the wall, trying to stop from falling as his hands go under, pushing my dress up, still rolling his tongue around my nipple. Cold air hits my upper thighs, and feeling exposed — in public — I moan aloud again.
Pulling away from my breast, he lowers himself. "Fuck…" he rasps, and I look down at him. His eyes are dark with lust as he stares at my skimpy black lace underwear. “Jesus Christ, you’re so fucking sexy.”
He kisses the skin just above the waistline of my underwear as his fingers massage my inner thigh. "Oh…" I whimper, my legs trying to close.
“Wrong name,” he hisses, his voice filled with thick desire. He groans as his hands keep my thighs parted, his lips ripping away from my skin. I throw my head back against the wall in frustration. He smirks at my obvious discomfort, pushing my dress up and over my hips.
"Oh god..." I sigh, as his fingers trail over my barely-there underwear, his mouth moving dangerously close to my aching pussy. He blows softly as his fingers rub against the flimsy fabric.
"Baby, I can feel how wet you are already." I whimper. “Say my damn name,” he groans menacingly against my quivering sex.
“No,” I moan, feeling his hand rub over my soaking wet underwear — and then it happens. He hooks his fingers around the ends of my underwear and tugs them down carelessly, tearing them a little, exposing my bare pussy to the cold air.
One flick of his finger … I swear I catch on fire.
I almost cum, but I am not going to scream out his fucking name.
“Oh God,” I breathe out again.
One minute ago, I thought we shouldn’t be doing this. Not in a public place. But then he looked at me. All he bloody did. It was enough to take control of me, and my senses. That little look that could be a leer, could be classed as his bedroom eyes, and now I’m being pushed up against the alley wall, willingly, as he strokes my pussy.
He rubs slowly, my wetness allowing his fingers to easily move in circles, and I whimper again. "Say it," he commands huskily against me, before pulling away enough to see my face. His eyes are dark, primal with lust, and I stop breathing again. I can't bring myself to say anything. "Felicity," he growls.
That is the best sound I have ever heard in my life, and will ever hear.
Just my name, and my pupils dilate.
He groans, and removes his fingers, which makes my entire body want to whine in protest. In fact, I think I make this noise that could be classed as a whine but damn, since he looked at me like that, since he pushed me up against this wall, since he ripped my underwear apart, as far as he could, all I’ve wanted is him. And if I'm a little bit needy, a little bit desperate, I can take that accusation.
After all, he bloody started it.
He rises to his feet in some display of strength and intimidation. "I'm sorry," I blurt out, pathetically. "Please…”
His gaze is sharp. “Please what?”
“Please don't stop." I squirm as he puts his hands on my hips roughly. I watch him grit his teeth, before he pushes me farther up against the wall and, before I know it, we are kissing ourselves to death. I feel a hot flush of adrenalin rush through my stomach. My legs quiver underneath, and the ground is an alien surface ten miles beneath me.
He breaks the kiss, his breathing laboured. "Then do what I want," he commands against my lips, and my muscles tighten. He is relentless. I ball up a handful of his shirt again as he slips his hand back between my throbbing thighs, rubbing everywhere but where I want him to. "Or so help me God — I will stop," he threatens, pushing his lower body against mine. His hard legs feel like steel as he steps in between mine, and I moan loudly again.
“Lenic," I whisper softly, shutting my eyes.
Let him be in control of me, I think. Let him take whatever he wants and however he wants it.
I.
Am.
His.
He immediately moves his hand back to my inner thighs. I pant as he lowers his head to take my exposed bud in his mouth again.
"Louder," he hisses, his voice low and dangerous, biting my nipple.
"Lenic," I repeat, throwing my head back, hitting the wall. Christ, I don’t care about being quiet anymore as he raises his head and plunges his lips over mine in a hot, eager kiss.
He slides his roughened fingers inside my folds. I scream his name this time, burying my head into the crook of his neck, licking and kissing the flesh there. He has skin like chocolate, and I want to overdose on it.
He groans as he feels my wetness and slickness, his fingers caressing my clit softly and teasingly. "Lenic. Please," I whimper, my hands digging into his hair again, roughly. “Fuck me.”
He chuckles again, and I feel him push one thick finger into my opening. I open my mouth in a silent scream, tightening my hold on him…
“Oh God,” I hiss. Another groan escapes my lips as Lenic’s slickened finger enters me completely, and I bury my head against his shoulder when he adds another finger.
"You’re so tight, baby." His breathing becomes heavy as he kisses me again. I run my fingers through his hair and kiss him harder as I feel the slide of another finger and try not to lose my load as he hits my G-spot. What can I say — I'm young, I'm horny and I have the world's sexiest badass kissing me like I'm his oxygen, like I'm his reason for being alive, all the while he's prepping me so he can thrust his big hard cock into me. I hope.
“Lenic…" I am shaking against him, as he starts to pump his fingers in and out of me in the most delicious way.
In.
Out.
Slow.
Fast.
Soft.
Hard.
I almost scream again. I want to scream. I want to make Lenic know how I want it — hard, fast, without poetry and romance, but his mouth softens the noise. He slides his tongue inside my mouth as his fingers find a spot inside me that literally makes me see a million colours. He pushes roughly on that piece, making me close my eyes tightly.
He rips his mouth away from mine. "Call out my name when you cum," he demands.
His fingers slide out to go back to caressing my clit, before drilling his fingers inside of me again. His thumb softly flicks my clit as he pumps his fingers, again and again.
"Oh God, Lenic," I scream, banging my head against the wall as stars explode in front of my eyes. He presses his body into mine, his mouth sucking on my swollen nipple, his thumb rubbing my clit as his fingers pump hard inside of me. This time I really do scream his name, as his tongue swirls around my tip. He licks, bites, sucks, and nips at my bud, pushing me closer and closer to the edge.
When he adds another finger, hits that perfect spot on every thrust … it is just too good to last. I know I am going to lose it quickly. I can barely keep my voice from quivering. “Oh Lenic … I’m cumming.”
Having him four fingers deep inside of me, in a public place, has the panting muscles in the pit of my stomach go haywire. My hands go back to his head, fisting his hair, pulling on it painfully, as my muscles start to clench around his fingers.
"Lenic…" I push my head back against the wall and I feel like I can see damn stars, and can feel the world beginning to white out around my periphery, as I look at those intense dark eyes and that handsome face showing more emotions than I think I’ve ever seen Lenic display.
The rush of oxygen, the effect of the champagne, his touch, his fingers, the adrenaline, the orgasm exploding inside me … it all comes together at once, filling my head with a raw and dizzying blissful explosion that drains the blood from my body.
I feel his rock-solid cock throb through his trousers, and he squeezes his eyes shut, letting out a low, throaty groan. I’m beyond thinking at this point when I am startled back to reality.
“Oh my god,” someone gasps.
Both of our heads snap around at the same time towards the other end of the alleyway that leads to the main street.
It’s Delphine.
It’s too dark for her to see anything clearly, but my heat is still throbbing around his fingers as she stares at us, mouth hanging open. “You two aren’t having sex in the alleyway, are you?” she whispers hotly, glancing quickly to her left and right.
I feel Lenic’s fingers slip out as he steps back, his eyes glazed and body panting.
"What? Shit," I curse, covering myself up. I run a finger along my lips, wiping off the excess moisture, feeling them throb against my touch. My lips aren’t the only sensitized part of my body throbbing with each rapid pulse of my heart. “No,” I call back, clearing my throat.
Maybe Lenic and I would have had sex; had mind-altering, universe-shifting sex. Now I will never know.
Thanks to my cock-blocking friend.
“Oh my god … you totally were,” she repeats, the expression on her face looking like she can’t wait to tweet the news. I hear her giggle, clapping her hands. “You lucky bitch. I’ll see you inside, Flick. Once he has done giving it to you something good.” She disappears.
“Please, just ignore her,” I tell Lenic. “She can never handle her wine.” My face crumples when Lenic advances farther backwards, increasing the space between us, regret etched into his face. “Don’t worry … this wasn’t filmed.” A nervous giggle slips from my mouth, aware that something is off. “What’s wrong?”
He is shaking his head, his eyes cast down. I don't need a mirror to know that the expression I'm wearing is much like the one a dog wears when it's not sure if it is about to be kicked.
He might as well kick me with his next words.
“This can’t happen again…”
When I hold his troubled gaze, hurt fires in my eyes and erupts into a flame in my stomach. It is a full minute, maybe more, when I realise I haven’t answered. It almost feels like a slap in the face and not the 'wake up' kind. I have this sudden sense of abandonment.
The way he kissed me, touched me … and then this? It's a contradiction that leaves me feeling like I am suffering from a bad case of whiplash, and I wonder if I’m not good enough.
No.
No, I won’t doubt my self-worth. I am good enough. And I deserve better than this. This isn’t about me.
This is about him.
My hurt turns to anger and my eyes become spiteful slits. “That’s low,” I whisper hotly, the pain and anger palatable in my voice. “This was one of the most incredible nights of my life and—” I give a short, mirthless laugh. “—and you regret it?” I can’t keep the hurt out of my voice, but it is nothing compared to the way my heart feels inside my chest.
He is still shaking his head, and it only further infuriates my indignation. “Felicity, I didn’t mean—”
He tries to reach out but I smack his hand away, curling in on myself at the same time, wrapping my arms around my waist in some kind of vain attempt at protecting myself from the way he is making my stomach feel.
“Fuck. You.” I spit out the words with as much venom as I can muster.
Something twists painfully in my gut as I turn and walk briskly away, without another word, listening to the clicking sound of my heels echoing off the walls in the hollow alleyway.
I leave him alone in the dead of the night to stand with his regrets … my own falling close behind.