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We finish with the Impressionists, and the crowd starts to thin. Kellen takes us to her favorite medieval altarpiece. That’s quickly followed by her favorite marble statue, her favorite daguerreotype portrait, and her favorite Lalique necklace.
Alix eats it up, every bite. She asks questions, sponges up the answers, and races off for more before I’ve even figured out what I’m supposed to be looking at. I’ve never seen her this relaxed, thison, at least outside of our bedroom.
Kellen says, “Let me take you to the Temple of Dendur.” Along the way, she explains that it’s an ancient Egyptian temple. The huge sandstone blocks were transported to the museum before the temple’s original valley was flooded by a new dam. The entire thing has been rebuilt in a gigantic glass-walled gallery.
“This is one of the rooms for the Met Gala,” Kellen says. Before she can go on, though, her walkie-talkie spits out a burst of static. “Excuse me,” Kellen says. “I’m afraid I have to take this.”
She fiddles with the volume and speaks into the device. I can barely make out the reply, but it must not be good news. Kellen frowns and holds up a finger in the universal sign that she’ll just be a minute. She waves her hand, inviting us to look around without her.
Alix and I climb the steps to the temple, giving our guide a little privacy to resolve whatever problem she’s dealing with.
“Thank you,” Alix says as we walk into the sandstone structure.
“For what?”
“For all of this.”
I squint at the carvings on the walls around us. “For a couple of palm trees and a guy with the head of a jackal?”
She plants her hands on my chest. “Seriously. I love you.”
“I love you too.” It’s not the first time we’ve said it to each other. But it’s the first time the words have just fallen out like that, easy and balanced and light.
She turns her face up, and I brush a kiss against her lips. It’s not supposed to mean anything. We’re in a goddamn Egyptian temple, for fuck’s sake. But Alix’s fingers tighten on my shirt, pulling me closer. She opens her mouth, and her sly, hot tongue slips against mine.
When Alix sighs, I’m instantly as hard as good old Pharaoh’s sandstone tomb. I shift my feet for better balance and slip my hand past the waistband of her jeans, fully aware of the fact that Kellen Nolan is just the other side of the temple’s solid walls.
13
ALIX
* * *
Ibuck when Trap’s fingers slide past my panties to brush my clit, and I let out a little shriek of surprise. “Hush,” he whispers against my lips. “You’re in a fucking museum.”
I laugh, until his free hand slides inside the collar of my shirt. He pinches my nipple, hard enough to make me squeak again. At the same time, he curls a finger deep inside my pussy. “Trap,” I moan.
“Quiet. Or the security guards will throw us out.”
This is what he promised. Trap is having his wicked way with me. He’s igniting every nerve ending in my body because he’s chosen this place, this time, and I’ll be mortified if we’re discovered by random tourists or Kellen or her boss.
I bury my face in Trap’s right shoulder, taking care to avoid the stitches in his left. If I hurt him, he doesn’t give any sign. Instead, he refines his approach between my thighs, rubbing my clit with his thumb as he fills me with two smart fingers.
We’re making out like horny kids, hiding on a school field trip. I start humping his hand, rocking back and forth to find the perfect pressure against his wrist. I lean back just enough to stroke him through his jeans, feeling his cock grow heavy and hard.
I shift my feet, giving him a better angle to drive deep. At the same time, I work his zipper, sliding my fingers past the metal teeth. I slip through the fly of his boxers and run a single fingernail down the length of his twitching cock.
“Fuck,” he grunts, but I purse my lips, silently reminding him toshhhhh.I close my fingers around his cock, squeezing hard enough to make him huff.
He wastes no time getting his revenge. He shifts his slick fingers to my clit, pinching slowly, tighter, tighter, ratcheting me close to the edge of pain. I catch my breath, the better to measure the frantic fire sizzling beneath his grip.
Just when I think I have to stop him, or maybe I only need to slow him down a bit, he releases the throbbing nub. I gasp. I have to. And then he’s got three fingers pressing into my pussy, hooking me at an impossible angle.
Pinch. Plunge. Pinch. Plunge.
I’ve given up on teasing his cock. I’m clutching his good shoulder with one hand, trying to hold steady. I’ve got the back of my right hand pressed against my mouth, pushing back all the words I want to shout.
Pinch.
