Then he pushed off the wall and walked away whistling, and I spent the next three days jumping at shadows. Which I think was the point. Half the game is the waiting. The not knowing when. Every turn becomes a possibility. Every empty room becomes a place where he might be standing in the dark with that bone-white mask covering the lower half of his face and his eyes bright above it.
It happens on a Tuesday afternoon.
I’m carrying a box of trade goods from the supply room to the work hub, a typical boring errand. My brain is somewhere else, running the usual loop—Sting’s silence, the papers, what Armen told me, the gap between what I know and what I can make anyone do about it. I turn a corner behind the old food court, the one that’s mostly storage and nobody uses after lunch, and a hand clamps around my upper arm.
I drop my box.
He’s fast, and I’m against the wall before I can process what’s happening. The mask is on, bone-white, covering the lower half of his face, his eyes exposed and locked on mine. He’s got both my wrists pinned above my head in one hand and his body is pressed against me from chest to thigh.
“You asked for this,” he says. His voice is low, muffled through the mask. “Remember that.”
My heart is slamming because I know those eyes, I know that grip, I know the smell of this man. The surprise is real, and the rush of it goes straight between my legs. I’m already wet and he hasn’t even done anything yet.
“Hi,” I manage.
His eyes crinkle above the mask, and I can tell he’s grinning under there.
“Hi, yourself.” His hand moves from my hip to the front of my jeans, pops the button, and slides the zipper down. All of this while holding my wrists above my head with one hand, which shouldn’t be as hot as it is, but it’s really, really hot. “How long have you been thinking about this?” he asks.
“Forever. And you took your damn time. I thought maybe you’d forgotten.”
“Had to pick my moment.” His fingers slide past the waistband of my underwear and down and when he touches me, his eyes change. The playfulness is still there, but somethingjoins it. “Jesus. You’re soaked. You been walking around like this all day?”
“Maybe,” I whisper.
“More like probably.” He works two fingers inside me. My back arches off the wall, and the sound I make echoes. “I’d like to think you’ve been walking around the Rot dripping wet, thinking about me catching you in a dark hallway. That do it for ya?” he growls in my ear, the mask brushing my skin.
“You know it does,” I gasp. His fingers are doing something magical, and my hips are grinding into them. The fact that we’re in a place where anyone could walk by is making it ten times more intense. I never knew I was an exhibitionist, not before the guys brought me to the club. “Rogue?—”
“Not done.” He curls his fingers and I gasp. “Tell me what you want.”
“You know what I want,” I whine. Why do I have to say it?
“Tell me, Vi,” he says in a scolding tone.
Oh my god. “I want you to fuck me,” I say in a shaky voice.
“Where?”
“H… here. Against this wall. Right here. Right now. Please.”
“Good girl.”
He lets go of my wrists and I start to lower my arms. But he shakes his head once—keep them there—and I do. I keep them above my head while he yanks my underwear and jeans down until I can step out of one leg. He undoes his own belt and shoves his pants down just enough for his cock to bounce against me. Then tucks his hands under my ass and easily lifts me. I wrap my legs around him and he pushes inside me with no hesitation, and we both make a sound that’s too loud.
Neither of us cares.
“Fuck,” he says against my neck. “You feel… oh fuck.”
“You’re so articulate, aren’t you?” I rasp.
“Shut up, smart-ass.” He’s laughing. Thrusting into me and laughing. That’s Rogue. “You feel so fucking good. I’ve been thinking about this for three days. Watching you walk around the Rot, your ass in those tight jeans. Planning where I was gonna grab you. Drove me out of my mind. My dick has been hard for days.”
“Good,” I giggle. I’ve got my arms around his neck now, holding on while he drives into me. The wall is cold against my back and he’s hot against my front, and the friction is insane. “I wanted you out of your mind.”
“Mission accomplished.” He changes his angle and hits something that makes my vision blur. “That good?”
“Yes, God yes. Right there.”
