God, she’s so pretty when she does as I ask.
Lids heavy, pupils blown, she turns to me, her gaze dropping to the heavy bulge between my legs when I adjust myself with my free hand.
“I always want some help, sunshine. You just tell me where you want me.”
Chapter 21
Calla
My pussy pulses with each of Blake’s words, nipples beading against the satin-like material of my dress. I ache to be touched by him, to befuckedby him.
Skin flushing with desire, I shift in my seat, pressing my legs together in a bid to quell the ache between the apex of my thighs, but it does no good. I’m drenched; my knickers standing no chance against the heat of Blake’s stare, cataloguing my every move.
A high-pitched chime of metal on glass grates through my ears, cutting through my reverie and causing me to grimace. I turn to see an unfamiliar looking gentleman on the makeshift stage, an empty flute of champagne in his hand.
“Who’s he?” Blake whispers, also looking at the man out of the corner of his eye.
“No clue. But he looks important.”
“This is the last call for drinks and bathroom breaks,” the gentleman continues. “Speeches will be starting in ten minutes and you’re not going to want to miss tonight’sspecial announcement. So please, ensure you have everything you need to stay seated.”
Grinning, he steps away from the microphone, chatter and the scraping of chairs being pushed back following in his wake.
Lacing my fingers with Blake’s, I run my nose along the length of his neck, inhaling the scent of his aftershave, achingly familiar to me now. “Let’s bunk off.”
He pauses mid sip of whisky. “Hm?”
“Let’s bunk off,” I repeat. “The speeches are boring as fuck and their special announcements are never as important as they make them out to be. Let’s go.”
I expect Blake to ask me where we’re going, but he doesn’t, instead allowing me to lead him away from our table.
Good.
I’m glad to be away from those gossipy bitches anyway. Co-workers or not; none of their opinions matter to me. I couldn’t care less what they think.
Blake and I disappear easily into the crowd of tailored suits and expensive dresses, blending in as if we, too, are off to get another drink.
Sidestepping a group, I peer down the ornate corridor where I know the toilets to be, at least according to the gold sign hanging above the archway and instead pull Blake down a much more dimly lit corridor.
“Feel like I’ve stepped back into the 1800’s… either that, or I’m in a game of Cluedo.”
I jiggle the first doorknob I come too, finding it locked shut. “Cluedo?”
“Yeah,” Blake laughs quietly. “Don’t you? With these old halls, decorated with creepy paintings and”— he runs his pointer finger along a sconce attached to the wall— “a shit load of dust. You can be Miss Scarlett and—”
“I’m not the one packing the weapon, though.” I make a show of looking at the noticeable bulge in his trousers. “That’s you.”
Blake swats me on the arse for that smart remark, pressing his front into my back and dipping his chin to mutter filth in my ear.
God, I can’t take much more. My legs feel like jelly, my pussy aching so bad I can hardly think straight.
Someone taps on the microphone again, the sound slightly muffled now we’re further away, but I can still make out bits and pieces. “This is your five-minute warning!”
“Hope you don’t think I’m going to be done with you in five minutes, sunshine.” Blake moulds his hands to my hips when I jiggle with the doorknob attached to the third door down the corridor. He grinds his hard on into my lower back, causing my breath to stutter out of me, my eyes falling shut. “I’m not going to be done with you in fifty years, let alonefive minutes.”
That sounds an awful lot like Blake wants to keep me.
I can’t stop the glee his admission brings.
