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Oh. “Helen knows about it?”
“She just knows it’s one of the gazillion businesses William Nash owned. She doesn’t get too involved.”
“And…you do?” My voice turns breathy as he opens the zipper on my skirt and it falls down my shaking legs.
I step out of it and let him pick it up and hang it.
“I do. That’s why you were allowed in. There’s a brutal screening process of applicants here. You have to be eighteen and older, but not just any legally aged person can walk through those doors. They have to be investigated and proven to have both the financial support and power to be accepted. It was my father’s way of gaining dirt on the dark and depraved minds of most of his board of directors. So he didn’t want many other outsiders around, unless he could collect some dirt on them, too. I get a free pass for being the heir. Aren’t you glad you know me?”
I can’t concentrate on his words, because his fingers are running over my stomach. He stands up again so that his front is nearly glued to mine and he reaches behind my back to unhook my bra.
As it drops to the floor, he groans. “I love your tits. I’ve loved them since you refused to show them to me when we were fourteen. But do you know what I love more?”
I couldn’t speak even if I tried, so I keep my mouth shut. He takes my breasts in his hands and runs his thumbs against the hard tips over and over until my breathing is chopped to bloody pieces.
“Marking them.” His lips latch on to the flesh of my left breast where he left a hickey the other day. It’s like he wants to mark the same place.
He sucks and nibbles, and it’s almost as if he’s fingering or fucking me. My thighs clench and my heartbeat picks up.
At this rate, I’ll beg him to take me right here and now. But I’ll never do that.
I put my hands on his shoulders. “I said, n-no sex.”
“Sex is when I’m pounding into you until you scream, Butterfly.” His eyes glint as he pulls away from my tortured breast. “I’m only touching you ever so gently.”
Wanker.
His fingers hook on either side of my underwear and he slides them down my legs, leaving goosebumps in their wake. I step out of them mindlessly.
“I don’t have to touch you to know you’re turned on. I can smell you.” He bunches the underwear in his hand and sniffs them.
My lips part and I feel as if someone’s doused me in fire.
That’s not supposed to be so hot, right?
“S-stop it,” I murmur.
“You didn’t make a rule about this. You don’t get to now.” He watches me and my toes curl as I resist the urge to cross my arms.
It doesn’t matter how many times he sees me naked. I always feel this sense of intimidation.
I shouldn’t, and if it were anyone else, I probably wouldn’t, but it’s Cole.
Anything sex-related has happened with him. My first kiss, and second and third and all, actually. My first fantasy, my first sex dream, my first masturbation, my first oral, and losing my virginity.
All of it.
He’s like the definition of sex in my mind and it’s nearly impossible to shed away that image.
He yanks the black dress off the hanger and throws it over my head. I help him, letting the sleeveless outfit fall to my knees, confused about his reaction. It’s almost as if he doesn’t want to see me naked. But why? He’s the one who wanted to undress me.
Instead of placing the underwear with the rest of my clothes, he shoves it in his trousers’ pocket.
“Hey!” I protest. “That’s mine.”
“Not anymore.”
“Are you a pervert?”
