Page 30 of Last Line of Defense

She presses her forehead against mine, keeping her eyes closed as she tries to steady her heartbeat.

“Yeah, I know. It’s a disaster.”

“We should stop right here and go back to the others before they get suspicious.”

“We should…”

But neither of us makes a move to budge even a centimeter from where we stand.

I truly look at her, without excuses, without defenses, and I realize that I no longer want to provoke her just to get the better of her pride, nor do I intend to control her, nor do I want to keep resisting the inevitable. What I want, with every cell in my body, is to lose myself completely right there. In that mouth. In this mess with legs. In her.

Alicia brushes my palm with her fingertips—a gesture that’s incredibly gentle, electrifying, and charged with a clear intention for the immediate future.

“If you really want to stop… then go, Clara. Turn around and go back to dinner.”

And I, acting like any sensible, rational person standing on the brink of an imminent emotional precipice, turn around and leave the terrace. But I walk with her toward the shadows inside the restaurant. Toward the dark hallway at the back. Toward the restroom. Toward each and every decision that my brain knows perfectly well it must not make under any circumstances—and yet, my heart made them for both of us a very long time ago.

11

Crossed Lines

Alicia

I follow Clara down the restaurant’s inner hallway with my heart pounding in my throat and my pulse thudding like a drum in my ears. The deafening hubbub of conversations, exaggerated laughter, and constant clinking of cutlery gradually fade behind us as we move toward the most secluded part of the restrooms. Neither of us says a single word along the way. The tension we carry on our shoulders is so dense, wild, and electric that you can almost feel it with your fingertips. It’s an explosive mix of pent-up rage, jealousy, desire, and frustration oozing from our pores.

I push open the door to the accessible restroom—the largest, most discreet, and most secluded one—with my shoulder, and as soon as we both step inside, I slide the latch shut with a sharp click that sounds like heaven. Clara whips around to face me, her breathing completely ragged, her cheeks flushed, and her eyes shining with an animal intensity. Before her brain has time to think, I take a step forward and unceremoniously pin her against the wall.

“Alicia…” she begins, narrowing her eyes, but I don’t even let her finish the sentence.

I kiss her with a pent-up, ferocious hunger, unleashing on her lips all the frustration I’ve been building up throughout dinner. My mouth devours hers, tongue against tongue, in a deep, wet, hot, and deliciously dirty kiss. It tastes of wine, burning rage, and that repressed desire that nearly drives us crazy. My hands slide impatiently down her sides, crumpling and clutching the thin fabric of her dress, desperately seeking the scorching heat of her skin. Clara lets out a muffled moan against my lips, and that blessed sound is the final spark that sets everything ablaze.

“I hate you with all my might for doing this to me…” I whisper hoarsely against her mouth between kisses, tangling the fingers of one hand in her neatly styled hair and gently pulling it back to expose the line of her neck. “I hate you for looking at me as if you want to devour me whole and then pretending you feel absolutely nothing for me.”

“I’m not pretending anything…” she replies in a broken voice, gasping for air, as her hands urgently climb up my back and her nails dig ruthlessly through the thin fabric of my dress. “It’s just that…”

I silence her immediately with another kiss—even more intense, deep, and possessive—showing her who’s in charge. My hips press firmly against hers, seeking direct friction, rubbing against her with a brazenness that sets my blood ablaze. I feel the feverish heat radiating from her body—the same heat that’s been torturing and driving me mad while I shamelessly flirted with Irina at the table just to see Clara’s jaw clench with pure jealousy.

I unzip her dress with a clumsy impatience that nearly tears the fabric. The garment slides down her curves and falls in a forgotten heap on the tiled floor, leaving her exposed before my eyes in a set of black lace lingerie that is a true provocation. My hands roam over her breasts with savage eagerness, tracing her curves and pinching her nipples—which are already completely hard against the lace of her bra—until Clara arches forward and lets out a long, high-pitched moan that reverberates scandalously off the bathroom walls.

“Shhh…” I warn her, tracing a dark smile against her neck and gently biting the skin of her collarbone. “If you keep screaming like that, they’re going to hear us from the main dining room.”

“Well, let them hear us if they want to!” she growls through clenched teeth, surprising me with that burst of audacity I hadn’t expected at all from Dr. Valle. Her hands slide forcefully down to my ass and press me against her with brutal energy. “Let everyone find out about the madness you unleash every time you look at me and just how fucking crazy you drive me.”

Those words turn me on even more, pushing me to the limit. I lift her with a slow, firm movement of my athletic thighs, forcing her to sit on the bathroom’s wide marble sink. Her legs part automatically to make room for me. I immediately position myself between them, devouring and biting her collarbone before moving straight down into the tempting valley of her breasts. I unhook her bra with one hand and fling it into some corner of the bathroom. My mouth closes around one of her erect nipples, sucking hard while my tongue torments it mercilessly. Clara roughly tangles her fingers in my hair and pulls at it urgently, gasping my name as if her life depended on it.

“Alicia… for God’s sake… please…”

“Please what, Clara?” I ask, looking up at her with burning eyes as I gently bite her other nipple. “Tell me. I want to hear you beg.”

“I want you to fuck me already, Alicia. Right now. Hard.”

The raw directness of her plea translates into a wet, electric heat right between my legs. I smile mischievously against her skin and lower my mouth even farther down her body, kissing her flat stomach and caressing the edge of her panties. I pull them off with exasperating, calculated slowness, sliding them down her legs. Clara is completely wet, slippery, and glistening. Swollen. Absolutely ready for me.

I kneel on the floor in front of the sink, spreading her thighs even wider with my hands to gain full access. Her body heat and intimate scent drive me completely wild. I lean forward and run the tip of my tongue very slowly, from bottom to top, along her entire slit, savoring her with a slowness and hunger that make me tremble. Clara shudders violently at the touch and lets out a long, low, guttural moan that sends shivers down my spine.

“Damn it, Alicia…”

From that moment on, I devour her without hesitation. My tongue enters her decisively, licking thoroughly, sucking on her swollen clitoris, and alternating between fast and slow rhythms to drive her completely wild. I slide two fingers inside her, curving them upward in search of that exact spot I know perfectly well drives her crazy. Clara covers her mouth with her palm to try to stifle her own cries of pleasure, but her hips don’t stop moving and thrusting against my face with wild desperation, seeking more depth, more speed, and more pressure from me.