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“You can’t do that if you don’t want me to lose control, Claire.” He huffs.
It takes a moment to realize what he means by that. I don’t get the chance to tell him I don’t want his control—I want him feral—because his fingers brush against my lips, which are swollen from the last… however long that was. “I’m not ready for this to be over. Last time, we rushed through this. Tonight, I’m going to take my time, getting to know every inch of your body. I’m going to know what your face looks like before you come, what sounds you make when you’re close to the edge, what touch makes you go absolutely mad.”
Fortunately, I’m still on my knees, because I think they just went a bit weak at that. “If we’re only going to have one night, it will be the best damn night of our lives.” His voice is more subdued with those words—almost sad—but I don’t have time to contemplate them because he’s not finished. “There’s just one thing we need to discuss first.”
“What?” I breathe, preparing myself for a list of all the reasons that this is not going to extend beyond anything more than tonight, in his office like a kinky little secretary who exists for his pleasure. I don’t care. I just need him, for however long he’s willing to give himself to me.
“Last time we acted on impulse. It was stupid. We didn’t use protection.”
Something about his words feel like a slap in the face—maybe because he called it stupid, even though it was. Or maybe it’s because he’s right. “I had my annual in March,” I tell him. It’s an oddly vulnerable thing to do, made even stranger by the fact that it feels awkward to discuss this when his dick was literally just in my mouth. You’d think not many things would be strange at this point, but here we are.
“I’m clean and I haven’t been with anyone until you.” I shudder a little, my thoughts suddenly taking control at the realization that it wouldn’t have been true if he hadn’t shown up when he did after Jovich dumped me in the den of predators. I’m not sure how virtuous Wes’ intentions were since he certainly had no qualms about seeing me hurt, but I don’t doubt that it wouldn’t have been long before something happened.
“I’m clean, too.” Remy says, pulling me back to reality. A reality that I want, that I crave. A reality that I’m soaking in every second of to cast off the possibilities of the past.
I realize he’s still waiting for something, and shake my head, trying to dislodge the unwanted thoughts. “I’m on birth control.”
He breathes a sigh of relief, and I realize we never discussed that after last time either. Has he been worrying all week about whether I’d suddenly tell him I’m not and we’d actually played a sort of Russian Roulette that night?
“Thank God.” He groans. “Because I need to be bare inside of you.”
I don’t even get a minute to process that, because he stands then and snatches me against his chest, lifting me effortlessly with his hand on my ass. It’s a strange cross between carrying me like a sack of potatoes and a bridal carry, but I melt against him all the same, ready and willing for whatever he wants to do to me.
“I’m not going to fuck you on my desk, Claire. I don’t need you getting a concussion when I fuck you within an inch of your life.”
His words are harsh, his tone is dark, and I think some of the anger of watching me flirt with his brother has returned because we just went from sweet and hot to bitter and blazing in the space of a few words. And they don’t frighten me, don’t repulse me, don’t make me nervous for what’s to come. Instead, I feel my pussy clench at air, desperate to be filled.
I do feel panic though, as he carries me toward the door and the realization that he means to take me to his room sinks in. “We can’t go out there naked. What if Rhea sees?”
But it’s not the door he goes for. He heads for a wall in the corner that’s lined with bookshelves, entirely covered in texts of varying sizes and color. I can’t even come up with any explanation as to what he’s planning, so it takes a moment for my brain to catch up when he fumbles around with something on the shelf and then there’s a little sound like a latch popping open. A cool breeze hits me before the rest of it, so that even when he carries me into his room and sets me on my feet, where I sway a moment, I haven’t processed what just happened.
Remy dives into the center of his bed and turns to me expectantly.
“D-did you just...?”
His soft lips quirk into a grin at my confusion. “My office and my bedroom are adjoining.” He nods.
“Through a secret bookcase?”
It’s the stuff of my childhood Scooby Doo dreams and my bookish fantasies all rolled into one. I think every girl who immersed themselves in a book to escape reality as a child dreamed about being rich enough to have a secret passageway behind a bookshelf. Remy doesn’t seem like the type who hid away in a book to keep from suffering through reality. But maybe I just don’t know him well enough.
“My home is a safe place, Claire.”
I want to ask what that is supposed to mean, but it seems that will have to wait for another time because the somewhat solemn look on his face disappears, chased away by a twist of his lips. “It’s your turn.” He nods his head at me, but I don’t know what it’s my turn for until he follows it up with a simple command.
“Strip.”
Chapter thirty-three
Remy
Panic blossoms across her beautiful face for a moment, but she quickly reigns it in, rolling her shoulders. I’m not sure if that’s part of the show or an attempt to ease some anxiety about what we’re going to do tonight. I don’t really care, because she slips one strap off her shoulder, letting it rest against her arm while she hooks a finger beneath the other one and pulls that down too, so that her dress is held in place only by her breasts. My cock twitches in anticipation. Part of me hates myself for making her stop when she had me so close to coming on her tongue. I want to see her swallow my seed and paint it on her lips, and I was so damn close to letting that happen. But I need to bury myself inside her sweet heat, to drown in her, and that would have taken too long to happen if I let her finish before.
She reaches behind herself, and it takes me as long to figure out she’s finding a zipper as it takes her to tug the thing down, which is far too long and also surprisingly quick. In the silence, I think I can hear the metal teeth opening, letting her out of the restraints she’s been clinging to since we met.
When she drops the zipper, one side of the dress falls away to reveal a soft breast, her nipple pebbled with the weight of my eyes on her. My cock jumps in anticipation, so I wrap my fist around it and pump once while she looks from where she’s just exposed herself to me. When our eyes lock, something in her becomes emboldened enough to make a show of peeling the fabric away from the other side of her body.
She’s delicious, standing topless in front of me with her tits just begging to be squeezed, sucked, teased. But I don’t get to enjoy the sight of them alone for long, because Claire has her dress gathered in her hands and slowly shimmies it down the length of her torso, revealing the intoxicating expanse of her stomach bit by bit. A jewel shimmers at her naval piercing—maybe it’s the way the light catches it, but I hadn’t noticed that before.
