“For years, I sat in this room proving I belonged here. Symone shouldn’t have to do the same just because competence looks different than what you’re comfortable with. I’m not just defending my recommendation. I’m refusing to let another woman be diminished in the same room that once tried to diminish me.”
Cecil’s face turns a mottled shade of red, and those steepled fingers aren’t so steady anymore.
Chairman Chen clears his throat. “I will speak for myself in saying I’ve always respected what you’ve brought to the table, Rayne. Perhaps we have our own blind spots, and this is an opportunity for reflection.” He glances around the table. “As for the candidates, we should take a vote. All those in favor of Symone, raise your hands.”
Four hands go up, including his.
“All those in favor of Gordon Hays?”
Councilmen Miller and Cecil lift theirs.
The silence that follows is the loudest thing in the room. Cecil keeps his hand raised long after Miller’s comes down. A statement, I suppose. But mostly, he looks like a dinosaur in a suit, desperately clinging to the past he’s afraid of losing.
“The motion carries,” Chairman Chen announces. “Symone Francis is our new Director of Tourism.”
I don’t gloat—not visibly. I don’t even look at Cecil as he gathers his papers with jerky, agitated movements. Instead, Ioffer a brief, professional nod to the men who chose progress over prejudice.
“You made the best choice for Bayside,” I say, rising to my feet and walking out of council chambers on my own terms, feeling invigorated.
I fish my phone out of my purse and text:
Me: Done and ready!
DK: Heading there now. Wait 5 mins. I want your pussy naked and dripping.
A shiver runs through me. I cross the hall, my heels clicking on the tiled floor like a countdown as I hurry to the restroom, and ditch my thong inside the stall. Then I open my blouse and lower the cups of my bra. I pull out two silicone disks from my purse—matte, charcoal-grey shields that I apply to my nipples. They’re no more than the size of a bottle cap. Light, but heavy with potential. When I pull my bra back up and rebutton my blouse, they create two subtle curves through my top that only someone looking for a secret would notice.
I retrieve my phone, open the app, and with a single swipe on the interface, the silence of the restroom is broken by a high-frequency purr. It isn’t loud, but I instantly feel the buzz against my skin. Not the sharp, pinpoint pressure of metal clamps, this is a delicious suction, constantly tugging on my nipples like a greedy mouth. Dripping isn’t going to be a problem.
I adjust my blouse, the fabric whispering over the shields, and exit the stall, searching my reflection above the sink. My hair is still holding the front curl-ironed swoop, and my cinnamon-brown lip stain hasn’t lost any of its color, but it’s my eyes that say it all. They’re bright and a little glassy. I look like a woman who’s primed to get herself some.
Out in the corridor, I hook my purse strap over my shoulder and scan my surroundings. Town Hall tends to clear out around 5:00. It’s four, and the coast is clear. I make it all the way to the end of the corridor and slip into the stairwell, unseen. The adrenaline is a wildfire under my skin. I’m drenched in pheromones by the time I reach the basement.
I haven’t been down here before. The air is cool, but it doesn’t douse the flame burning through me, that ripple of awareness that tells me he’s nearby.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Rayne
DK steps out of the shadows, and my mouth waters as my eyes eat him up. He’s breathtaking—a big, beautiful presence in the semi-darkness. His jacket is off, folded over the stair rail, his glasses inside the pocket.
“You got that warrior glow,” he says, approaching. The sound of his footsteps strike like thunder.
“I might have done a little conquering.”
“It suits you.” His gaze rakes over my hair, my face, and the cream blouse tucked into my taupe skirt.
He doesn’t stop as he nears me, his body on a collision course with mine. I’m not the only one who has conquered. On the phone last night, he sounded charged, and I see it now in the flesh. The man who used to hold all that guilt and shame—whose mind wouldn’t quiet enough to let him sleep—that’s not the man standing in front of me.
We’re two forces, shedding our pasts and reclaiming our power.
I hook my bag on the rail just as he takes that last step. I surge into him, my hands sliding up his chest to find the heat of his neck, pulling his mouth down to mine.
No one has ever kissed me the way DK does. It’s hot and demanding, his tongue a searing plunge that’s as sexual as when he’s sliding it between my legs. And yet there’s also tenderness, a kiss that makes me feel both cherished and desired.
I move against him, the tight press of his chest adds an unbearable friction to the disks. He feels the buzz, too. Lifting his mouth, one of his hands moves to my neck, wrapping the column of my throat. “You’re vibrating.”
“Mhm.”
