Page 47 of Finally, His

The good girl opened her legs. His hand drifted on her skin for long minutes as they crawled down the street with the traffic. “Eyes forward,” he instructed.

Her teeth grasped her bottom lip, and she stared out at the windshield. He did the same.

Her chest began to rise and fall. Anticipation, perhaps? Or maybe frustration that he wasn’t moving his hand to where she wanted.

One of the things he loved about his Charlotte was her desire to be touched, handled. His need to top her was as strong, but he made her wait until they found themselves passing the MCI Center. Traffic slowed even more. Honking and street noises grew louder. Finally, he gave her his fingers. Slipped them higher and touched the silky fabric. She gasped at the contact.

A deep satisfaction bloomed in his chest. God, he loved her reaction to him.

He rubbed her clit, now swollen and easily found. He rubbed his middle finger up and down until he heard her breath quicken.

“Are you wet for me, Charlotte?” he asked.

She swallowed and nodded.

“Good.” The National Gallery of Art came into view. His finger continued as they turned onto Constitution. He drove down the street, turned, drove around the back end of the Smithsonian, and, again, got them back on Constitution.

She stared at his profile. He didn’t need more than a periphery look at her to know her eyes held questions, her lips quivering with the need to come.

“Don’t,” he said when her gasps became sharp—little inhales as if she were close.

“Please?”

“No.”

They continued to drive around. His fingers stalled when he thought she got close. Starting up again when she regained some composure.

After two circles around the Smithsonian’s campus, her head had fallen back. Her skin flushed a beautiful glow that brought out her freckles even more. Even her thighs were pinked, growing tense as she fought to keep them still.

When her panties were so soaked that she’d surely left a wet spot on his seat, he removed his hand.

A parking space opened up on Madison. They always did eventually and were there for the taking if one exercised a little patience.

After parking, he turned off the car. With no air-conditioned air coming from the vents, the atmosphere warmed.

He turned his gaze to her as the sun streamed across her beautiful pale skin. “Now, give them to me.”

People, mostly tourists, milled about the sidewalk. They might see her slipping them off, which was a bonus. Charlotte was a notorious exhibitionist, and her arriving panty-less would not be unusual. The backstage would be filled with people close to their circle. And if Sarah had her way, she’d get Laurent’s ass nice and red before walking down the runway. Probably in front of everyone backstage.

She shimmied off her panties and handed them to him. They were soaked as expected.

He curled his fingers around the fabric and balled them up. “When you put on your wedding gown, you’ll think of me.”

“I might ruin the dress.”

“Go ahead.” Her mental state was far more important than a frock. “Let your juice run down your inner thigh. Let it pool in your shoes. I’ll lick it off you later. And these,” he held up her soaked panties before tucking them inside his suit jacket, “stay with me. You’ll see me reach in and touch them when you come close to me.” He’d made sure his seat at the fashion show was at the end of the runway. “With every step, you’ll think about my fingers inside you.” He thrust his hand back between her legs and jabbed his index finger inside her, making her gasp. “Won’t you?”

She nodded vigorously as her lips dropped open. She was calm, though her pretty mouth quivered, and her legs shook.

His hand slipped free, and he raised his fingers to her mouth. “Suck them off. Then we go.” There was more to do, but he’d need an audience.

Charlotte’s head fell back, and she spun in a circle. Even the ceiling was interesting with its patterns and colors. “I still can’t get over this place.” She’d been inside the Arts and Industries building before for the fashion show rehearsal, but her mind was still filled with awe at the space.

Richard grasped her hand. “Itishard to believe it’s so light inside.” The building’s exterior was mostly red brick, with some yellow, blue, and black bricks forming decorative patterns. But it appeared almost warehouse-like and sure to be dark inside.

But once through the front entrance, the building opened into a spacious, light-filled hall with hundreds of windows, soaring archways, and ornate Moorish-inspired stenciling. The structure boasted four symmetrical spacious halls laid out in a Greek Cross with a central rotunda connecting them in the middle. They were aptly titled the North, South, East, and West Halls. Any of them would make an ideal fashion runway, with the rotunda allowing for a perfect place to turn around and walk back.

“Sarah said it’s perfect for Laurent’s collection. She called the building “‘industrial chic with both masculine and feminine elements’.”

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