I’m throbbing, the pressure almost painful, as she slides her tongue around me. My hand grips her chin, guiding her movements with a rough intensity, forcing her to stay.
“You have no idea Madeline,” I breathe through a ragged, broken groan.
“No idea what it took me to wait this long.”
She smiles around me. A defiant, beautiful ghost of a smile. Her muffled moans vibrate along my shaft, sending tremors through my entire body. My cock twitches. I’m close. So fucking close to losing every bit of the control I prize so much.
And that’s when I stop.
Without a word, I push her head away gently but firmly. I pull my pants back on, the fabric feeling cold and clinical against mysensitized skin. The sudden absence of her heat is jarring. Her eyes flash with absolute confusion, her pupils still blown wide from the adrenaline and the act.
“What the hell?”
She asks, her voice fractured and breathless. Her cheeks are flushed deep, burning crimson.
I help her back on her feet, my hands cupping her face for a fleeting second. My gaze has already shifted. The hunger is gone. Well. Not exactly. I’m hard as a fucking rock, but it’s still replaced by a cold, sharp seriousness.
“You don’t deserve anything else tonight,” I state. My voice is flat, devoid of the heat from moments ago.
“You would have handed me over to that detective if I hadn’t stopped you. I’m not the kind of a man that forgets. Not even when I'm inside of your mouth,” I remind her, my words cutting through the lingering sexual tension like a scalpel. My hands drop, and I take a deliberate step back, creating a chasm between us.
“Are you fucking serious right now?”
She stares at me, the shock on her face turning into something sharper.
I can see her mask sliding back into place, piece by piece. All that forbidden hunger… gone. In its place is a raw, stinging embarrassment. Her sober brain has taken over, screaming that this was a mistake. A catastrophe. It wasn’t. It was an awakening.
She knew this was wrong before she started. But for a few minutes, the dark part of her won. And we both know it’s only a matter of time before it wins again.
I don’t wait for her to find her voice. I don’t need her words. I’ve already tasted her surrender, and that’s the only currency that matters to me right now. It's more valuable than any information she could give the police,
I turn my back on her, my footsteps echoing against the sterile, tiled floor with rhythmic, haunting precision. Each step feels light, fueled by the power of leaving her there broken, wanting, and utterly confused.
I can practically feel her gaze burning into my back, a mixture of loathing and a desperate, unspoken need for me to turn back.
At the heavy metal door, I pause. I don’t look back. If I do, I might see the ruin I’ve made of her, and I would probably go back to her and finish what I started. And she doesn't deserve that satisfaction. Not now.
“Clean yourself up, Madeline,” I say, my voice projecting coolly into the space.
“You have work to do. And don’t forget, the dead are the only ones who can keep your secrets. For now.”
I push through the door, and it swings shut behind me with a dull, final thud that resonates through the corridor like a gavel.
The hallway is dim, lit only by the flickering hum of industrial fluorescents. I’m halfway to the stairs when a blur of movement rounds the corner.
Lucy.
A stark contrast to the stillness of the room I just left. She slams right into my chest. It’s like a bird hitting a stone wall. I don’t move an inch, but she stumbles back, her eyes wide as she looks up to me.
I don’t apologize. I don’t even break my stride. I merely look down at her with a gaze so cold it should have frozen the blood in her veins, and step around her. I can feel her eyes on my back, burning with confusion and a hint of fear. She has no idea who she just ran into. Or what I just did to the woman she's about to find.
“Jesus… who the hell was that?”
I hear her mutter, her voice echoing in the empty corridor.
I don’t look back. I can already hear her footsteps quickening, heading straight for the door I just exited. Heading for Madeline.
A ghost of smirk plays on my lips as I walk down the stairs. Let her find her friend trembling in the dark. Let her ask questions that Madeline can’t answer. It only tightens the noose. She has exactly ten seconds to pull herself together before Lucy walks in on the wreckage of her dignity.
