He clicked open the velvet box. The diamond was breathtaking, a stone we had chosen together with clinical precision. I held out my hand, and as he slid the ring onto my finger, a roar of applause erupted. He stood, lifting me into a celebratory spin as flashes went off in a blinding staccato.
When my feet hit the ground, Don pulled me into a long, lingering kiss. We had become experts at this, convincing the world of our passion, selling the image of a discreet, powerful couple.
Hours later, the adrenaline began to fade, replaced by a cold, hollow ache. I retreated to my room, needing to trade my floral dress for something warmer so I could finish the night drinking with my friends, drinking until I could finally drown the taste of her.
But my resolve shattered the moment I closed the bedroom door.
Before I could even reach for the light, I was enveloped from behind. Strong arms wrapped around my waist, and that familiar, intoxicating scent permeated the air, decimating every rational thought I had left. Kelsey was here, in the dark, and my neurons didn't stand a chance.
#52
"Ride up the storm. You'll pull yourself together. You'll find the inspiration, waiting for you there. Right in your soul." Liniker
“I’ve missed your taste so much, Megan,” I whispered against the nape of her neck, my hand tightening there just enough to assert the control she’d been starving for. “I’m not going to disappear again. I just need a part of you. Just as I know you need a part of me.”
She tried to resist, but her body betrayed her the second my lips brushed her bare shoulder, a violent shiver racking her frame.
“You son of a bitch,” she gasped, her voice thick with a mixture of hatred and desperate want.
“You need to see how perfect you are, my beautiful angel.” I reached for the zipper of her dress, the sound of it sliding down the only noise in the darkened room. I pressed my lips to her earlobe, my voice a low, commanding rasp. “Take off thatfucking dress and sit on the table. I’ve dreamed of the day I would fuck you in front of a mirror.”
“I don't know if I can…”
I didn't let her finish. I tangled my fingers into her hair, winding the strands around my fist and pulling her head back until she let out a series of broken, jagged moans.
In the corner of the room stood a heavy dresser, its tall mirror reflecting the flickering shadows. I led her to it, forcing her to sit on the edge, facing her own reflection. As her dress pooled around her ankles and my pants hit the floor, the charade of the engagement was officially over.
I positioned myself behind her, our eyes locking in the silvered glass. I looked into her gaze, intoxicated, raw, and dark with lust. I swept her hair to the side, my fingers trailing across her skin, leaving a path of goosebumps and frantic sighs in their wake. I hooked my index finger under the strap of her marsala bra, tracing the lace.
"You’re going to watch, Megan. I need you to see this," I whispered, never breaking eye contact. She shifted against the wood, her body eager, craving the touch she’d been denied for so long. "You’re going to watch me make you come, because I can’t be in the same room as you without thinking about how you feel around me. Do you understand?"
She nodded, a small, frantic movement of her head. Her gaze, once hazy with shock, became sharp and desperate as I slowly slid my hand between her legs, finding her already slick and ready.
"Yes... Reena," she breathed.
As always, she was perfectly responsive to my command, opening for me with a hunger that made me let out a dark, triumphant laugh against the curve of her neck.
"Calm down..." I murmured against the curve of her neck, burying my face there just to inhale that damn lavender scent, the scent responsible for every sleepless night I’d endured since we parted.
Every day for the last eighteen months, I had behaved like an addict, scouring the dark corners of the internet for a hit of her.
Information, photos, news, anything to bridge the gap. But tonight, the addict finally had the drug. My body surged with a violent rush of adrenaline while my lungs, for the first time in years, finally relaxed into her perfume.
Megan was perched on the edge of the dresser, her legs spread wide in the mirror’s reflection. The sight of her like that, while my fingers slid beneath the lace of her panties, was maddening.
My free hand tightened around her throat, my thumb dragging across her full lower lip. God, she was breathtaking. She let out a ragged sigh, leaning her head back against my chest as I found her, soaking wet and already desperate for me.
She couldn't stay still. She writhed and squirmed, her body seeking more contact as if she were a live wire unable to contain the current. My tongue wandered over her skin, her neck, her ear, the nape of her throat, I wanted to taste every inch of the woman I’d nearly lost.
My Kitty braced one hand on the mahogany surface, struggling to find her balance. As I increased the rhythm, a long, broken moan escaped her, followed by a curse that sounded like aprayer. I squeezed her neck a little harder and yanked at the elastic of her panties until they tore, the sound sharp in the quiet room.
With a full, unobstructed view of her in the mirror, I returned to her clitoris. I closed my eyes as her own hand found its way into my boxers, her fingers touching me with a slow, agonizing curiosity.
I hadn't given her a command, but I was past the point of caring about protocol. We were moaning in unison now, a symphony of hunger.
Her mouth clamped down on my thumb as it dragged across her lip, and the image in the reflection, the sheer, raw obscenity of it, would stay burned into my mind for a lifetime.
She was wide open for me, her whimpers growing louder as I intensified the friction. It was the epitome of perfection. Her hips bucked eagerly, begging for more, even as her own hand struggled to maintain its rhythm against me, her coordination failing as the pleasure began to fracture her mind.
