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Gabriel takes one of my hands and puts it on that rise of fabric. When I have a grip on it, he lets go. Then his fingertips are in the waistband of my panties.
He looks into my eyes.
Waits.
I give him a little nod.
Gabriel squeezes my hips, and then he tugs my panties off and tucks them into his pocket.
Then he puts his palms on my thighs and looks down at my body.
“I’ve done this before.” He arches an eyebrow. This is a party story. Something he’d tell with a drink in his hand. “Tasted Elise, I mean. It was on Bettencourt’s desk.”
One of the men at the table takes a sharp breath. I’m not sure which.
“This time, I think it’ll be better if she’s face up when I eat her out.” Gabriel’s utterly calm now. It must be a front, but it lookssoreal.He glances down between my legs. “She was sitting up when I did it on Bettencourt’s desk. But you know what?”
He waits a single beat.
Then, as if they’d answered: “She tasted delicious then, too.”
Newhouse barks a laugh. Chambers laughs, too, a beat behind and uncomfortable.
The sound my father makes is not a laugh.
It’s a sound I recognize, though. He’s annoyed, but Newhouse and Chambers? They’re impressed.
And all of them are turned on. I don’t have to see them to know.
The air in the room brushes across my bare pussy. Gabriel’s palms are warm on my thighs. My heart races.
We’re moving on from kissing and touching to licking and fucking in front of the consortium.
I only hope we make it out alive.
17
GABRIEL
I wantElise so much that my cock throbs, echoing the painful ache in the rest of my body.
This reaction shouldn’t be possible. There’s no goddamn way it should be happening when we’re taking the next step in a game that forcibly ejected me from my own brain a few minutes ago.
But with all her sweetness spread out on the conference room table, it’s simple.
I want her.
Even here. Even now.
Wanting herin such a pure, elemental way is both clarifying and an act of resistance. If I were going to do what Bettencourt demanded and force her, against her will, then I’d be a monster for wanting it.
I’m not going to do that.
I’ve spent every waking moment since my parents died denying myself pleasure. The only satisfaction I allowed in my life was the satisfaction of hunting down information that would justify hurting the men at this table and their wives. I’m still justified in hurting them. They deserve to face every possibleconsequence for what they did to my family. The idea to respond in kind came from Bettencourt.
The idea that I can’t take pleasure in anything else? In Elise? That came from me.
They’re not going to stop me from taking control of this, last-minute as it is. They can’t. Elise is in this with me. Her hands stay on the hem of her dress, holding it where I wanted it, and her eyes stay on me. She’s letting me be the center of this.
