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My breathing shudders.
“So, you trust me?” I ask, tracing every line of his face. “Because your father will hate it more if we’re both at the top rather than just me.”
“Sure about that?”
“Of course,” I say, emitting a playful giggle. “Beckett, he wanted me away from you. Seeing me by your side, stronger than ever, will only drive him mad.”
“We doing this, then?” he asks, his hand running up my jaw, fingers threading through my hair until they cup the base of my head, and he issues a wicked grin. “I’ll even sign a contract.”
I match his smirk. “And what does this contract include? I want to know the perks.”
“How about I show you?” he asks, not asking permission until his fingers pull on my waistband and he hesitates, a flash of panic in his eyes. “Unless this is too much.”
“You’re not your father.”
No matter how many times I likened the pair, there’s no way Beckett is like his father. Maybe some personality traits passed over. His charisma is not unmatched to Alistair’s, his demeanour more commanding, and his attentiveness so unlike his father’s.
My body bucks lightly against him, hoping he’ll understand what I mean, and as I see his shoulders fall slightly, I acknowledge he needs my consent so he knows he isn’t taking advantage of me.
“You’re not him, Beckett.”
“Too fucking right I’m not.”
He draws my lips to his, kissing me with abandon while his hand snakes down the front of my knickers, cupping me until his fingers are pressing delectably between my legs, finding the sweet spot. I don’t tense, I don’t react, and he notices this. Pulling away, I watch a slow, salacious smile pull on his lips, and his thumb presses against my clit.
I can’t resist the weakness in my knees, and I reach out for his shoulders to help my stamina.
“Yeah, I know how to get a rise out of you. In more ways than one.”
He keeps going, building my orgasm layer by layer until I can’t hold on. My body shudders, my fingers digging into him pleadingly, and my breathing becomes little staccato beats that motivate him to push me harder.
“Go on, darling girl. Let it go.”
I prove my trust by going over the edge of ecstasy, allowing him to take me there only to bring me back. He refuses to stop working my body, his fingers staying pushed inside me, the pad of his thumb pushed firmly on my clit as my body jerks with the comedown of my orgasm.
“In this business, we fulfil a mutual need.” He whispers into my ear, keeping me locked in place with his fingers still buried deep in me. “You’re only on top of me in the bedroom and vice versa. Do I make myself clear?”
“Y-yes,” I utter, panting against the need to beg for a second an orgasm.
He doesn’t give me that, though. He merely withdraws his hand, leaving me empty and cold without his touch while he brings his fingers to his mouth and licks his fingers.
“You still taste fucking sweet, you know that, Talia?” He rests the hand on the wall above my head, the other caught in my hand, resting on my jawline. “This is how it should have always been.”
He then draws me back to his lips and I melt against him and know he’s completely right. He pulls back, his breathing a little faster, and his hooded eyes meet mine.
“We’ll dance after death, darling girl. Mark my words.”
