Page 105 of Gold Rush

I smile as she uses the same excuse I did at Graham’s party. “You’re short a bartender?”

Rory rolls her eyes, then grabs my hand. “Collins is looking for you, Kit.”

“Where is she?” he asks immediately.

“By the stage, last I saw,” Rory replies, then pulls me back toward the doors that lead inside.

“Rory …” I start uncertainly.

I’m not sure if she was simply trying to get me away from Carson or if she’s intending to chastise me for engaging with him to begin with, but if it’s the latter, I’d rather have that conversation later, at home, not in a corner of this party while I’m trying to keep an eye out for my parents.

“Not here,” she says shortly.

I swallow hard. Fuck. She’s mad.

Rory leads me past the coat check that’s hardly being used due to the nice weather, down a hallway, and past a whispering group of waiters. They scatter as we approach, heading through a set of swinging doors that appears to be the kitchen. Another hallway, and we’re still walking. I can’t hear music or voices anymore.

Finally, she stops outside a door with Suite A affixed to the wood. She opens it, pulling me inside after her. And then turns the lock on the handle.

I exhale. “Look, I’m sorry I⁠—”

“Shut up and kiss me.” Rory grabs my black tie, yanking it the way she was just tugging my hand.

I go still, the arguments I spent the walk here compiling—he started it, he deserved it, I could have said worse—entirely irrelevant all of a sudden.

Rory isn’t angry. She’s turned on. She brought me here so we could fuck in the middle of her family’s fancy party.

“This is very naughty, Florence,” I say as her hands land on my belt, unbuckling and then unzipping urgently. “You can’t wait until we get home for my cock?”

“No.” She doesn’t even look up, intent on her task. “I need it now.”

She’s not teasing or trying to inflate my ego. She’s completely serious.

“Such a greedy girl.” I grip her hips, guiding her toward the couch that’s across from the vanity on the wall. They must use this as a dressing room during certain events. “Bend over.”

Uncertainty flashes across her face for the first time tonight. We’ve experimented with different positions, but I’ve always respected her request to be in front of her.

“Trust me,” I tell her, not sure if it’s a plea or a question.

She grabs at the closer arm of the couch, bending her back as I run a hand across her ass before starting to gather the skirt of her floor-length gown.

“Look right.”

Her head turns, finding us in the mirror’s reflection. “Oh,” she whispers, watching me adjust her dress higher. Carefully so it doesn’t wrinkle or tear.

Last time we snuck away at a party, we were pretending to fuck and wanted everyone to know. This time, we’re actually going to fuck. And I don’t want anyone except us to know.

“Oh,” she moans when I slip a hand between her thighs, fingering the wet heat waiting. Her hips lower like her legs might buckle, but she remains upright.

She’s ready. She’s soaked.

I pull my cock free from my boxers, lining it up with her entrance and starting to push deeper.

“Fuck. Flynn. That’s … fuck.”

Rory is watching me move behind her in the mirror, her hands clenched so tight that her knuckles are white. Her pussy is already fluttering. This might set a new record for how quickly she’ll come.

I’m too desperate to savor this. I withdraw and thrust again. Again. Again, exigency seeping into my movements. I fuck her hard and fast and deep, not stopping when her pussy starts to contract around me. I come so hard that black creeps into the edges of my vision and cum begins to trickle before I pull out. We still haven’t started using condoms despite the box I bought, and I try to convince myself that’s why this feels so different. There’s some primal instinct being triggered, seeing how I’ve physically marked her as mine.