Chapter Nineteen
Verity’s return to the club the next afternoon was marginally easier than it had been the day before. I guess you can get used to anything, even the Top Table, given enough time , she thought with a bleak shudder.
But she ground to a halt at the sight of an unfamiliar figure polishing the bar and her frown deepened as she approached.
“Where’s Chris?”
The young lad paused in his preparations and threw her an apologetic smile. “I dunno,” he said, “I was just told I’d be working up here from now on.”
“They fired him?” Despite herself, Verity couldn’t keep the shock from her tone.
To her relief the new bartender shook his head. “I don’t think so. I think he’s just been moved downstairs to the main bar.”
“Oh.” Verity felt her stomach lurch. She hadn’t realised how much she relied on Chris’s calm, reassuring presence. Clearly, Cross had noticed and had taken steps. “Fucking asshole,” she muttered, internally cursing both him and herself.
“I just figured he just needed a break from the–” The young lad swallowed hard, his eyes flicking around the room. “How bad–?”
Verity waved away his concern, “You’ll be fine. The bar staff generally get left alone.” He didn’t look convinced so she gave a shrug and added, “and the tips are better up here.”
Expression brightening, he returned to his task and Verity turned away, letting her thoughts run. They should have been more careful. Particularly up here, where Cross was always watching.
Thankfully though, the evening was quiet and if it hadn’t been for Valentina holding court in the centre of the room, her grating laugh scraping over Verity’s last nerve, the atmosphere could almost be considered pleasant.
Keen to stay out of her way, Verity tried to keep her attention focussed on the scattering of other occupied tables, but she could feel Valentina’s eyes following her around the room and whenever she glanced back, the woman would immediately lean into Cross, running a hand up thigh or playfully patting his chest. The proprietorial claim couldn’t be more obvious if she just squatted over him and peed on his leg.
“You’re welcome to him,” Verity muttered to herself, but still found her gaze returning to the couple throughout the evening and annoyed at herself for even noticing, her mood deteriorated further.
As the clock ticked round, the clientele gradually made their farewells and finally even Valentina got to her feet. Catching Verity’s unwary gaze she gestured to the empty glasses, waiting until she had reached them before leaning into Cross to say, “Will you be joining me later? I’m staying in my usual suite.”
Cross unhooked her fingers from his shoulder and sketched an apologetic kiss into the air above her knuckles. “Sadly, my darling, I have work that requires my attention.”
Verity hid a smile as she felt barely suppressed fury radiating from the older woman. Collecting up the empty glasses she took care to only touch the base of the one used by Valentina. Mentally crossing her fingers she folded an unused red napkin and tucked it inside the wine goblet. That had always been the signal. Normally, it would have been Chris adding the napkin before sending the glassware down to the main kitchen for washing. This time their roles were reversed.
He’d better be paying attention!
Once she’d placed the tray of empties on their designated spot for collection she was about to turn when a strongly muscled arm slid around her waist. She froze as Cross leaned closer, his breath lifting the stray hairs tucked behind her ear and sending sparks of excitement shooting down her spine.
“Would you care to join me in my office?”
The sharp tang of his cologne filled her head and her eyes drifted closed, unconsciously leaning into his broad frame as a wave of warmth swept through her. The arm holding her upright tightened and Verity snapped back to the present. What was she doing? Tense fingers digging into the polished wood of the bar she glanced back over her shoulder. “I thought you had work to do?”
She grimaced and jerked her face away as she felt him chuckle against her skin, annoyed at herself for revealing that she’d been listening, and also for the low, needy growl beneath her words.
“All work and no play.”
“Makes Jack prone to cliche?” she snapped.
To her surprise he didn’t reply, merely pulling her closer as his breath continued to tickle her ear and she realised he was waiting for an answer. Apparently his question was not as rhetorical as she’d assumed and the fingers looped over her hip were light rather than demanding.
She wasn’t sure which surprised her more, the fact that he seemed to be offering her the choice, or that she really, really wanted to say yes.
Vividly aware that no good would come from giving into that rash desire she swallowed hard and turned towards him, fully intending to step away with an apology. But before the words could form, the moment was interrupted by one of the serving staff clattering up the stairs to collect the tray of empty glasses.
Verity saw Cross shift his gaze and his eyes narrowed a fraction. She froze: that red napkin would stand out like a flag and she didn’t need his sharp mind asking questions or making connections. Anxious to distract him she placed a hand on his chest and forced a smile.
“Well, I’m all done here, if you want to move the party elsewhere.”
To her relief his gaze immediately returned to hers and a hungry smile stretched across his face.
***
Once sealed safely in his office, Cross shed his jacket, laying it carefully over the arm of the chair before turning back to her, that same hungry look burning brighter, and tinged with challenge.
Anxious to escape as quickly as she could and before she revealed the effect he was having on her system, Verity reached for his tie, but as she loosened the knot his hands closed over hers, drawing them down to her sides. A yelp of surprise escaped her throat as he grabbed her by the hips and lifted her into the air. With little apparent effort, he spun her around and settled into his desk chair with her straddling his thighs, facing away from him.
As she was still trying to orient herself, she felt light fingers curve round her sides, tracing the open vee of her shirt and brushing over the swell of her cleavage until they found the first button and flicked it open. Needing to take back some semblance of control, Verity reached back, running her hand over the solid evidence of his arousal and giving him a firm squeeze.
“No.” The word was softly spoken but the intention behind it, unmoveable. He took hold of her wrists and leaned forward, pressing her palms onto the desk.
“Don’t move.”
Rigid with tension Verity stared at her hands, noticing the chipped polish on one nail. She’d need to redo that before tomorrow’s shift, she thought and then flinched as those light fingers returned to trace the edges of her shirt, the vee deepening as each button was gently released exposing new skin to his wandering touch. Unhurried, he took his time and Verity found her breath coming in broken gasps by the time he pushed the starched white fabric from her shoulders.
Allowed to sit up while he disposed of her shirt and bra she shifted her weight, grinding against him, feeling her skirt ride up as she settled more firmly into his lap.
Cross hummed softly, clearly enjoying the sensation of her moving against him, but before she could settle into the rhythm she needed, he leaned forward once again and replaced her balled fists firmly on the desk, the unspoken instruction clear.
Once she’d stilled, Cross ran his palms slowly up her arms, fingers tickling the hollow of her armpit before sweeping down to her waist. They stroked the familiar path again and again, sometimes exerting a little more pressure, sometimes, the barest whisper of his skin against hers and gradually Verity felt herself relax; her fingers uncurling and pressing flat into the smooth surface of the desk.
On the next pass he deviated from the expected course, his fingers now tracing spirals around her breasts ending in the lightest flick against each peak, teasing an unexpected moan from her.
Over and over he drew the same concentric circles and her nipples tightened beneath the gentle caress, becoming swollen and aching for more. Cross allowed his attention to linger on those stiffened buds, just his fingertips skimming over them, pulling a groan from her throat.
Verity could feel waves of heat sparked by his touch rippling through her muscles and pooling between her thighs. Needing a firmer sensation she ground her hips against his erection.
A sharp slap to her outer thigh snapped her eyes open.
“No moving.”
To Verity’s shame a whine escaped her closed lips as his fingers returned to tease and torment her hyper sensitive nipples but cruelly moving no further.
Every nerve in her body was clamouring for his attention as she fought to control the overwhelming urge to grind her body against his. Breath coming in short pants, she almost wept with relief when his fingers finally descended lower, brushing over the lace welt at the top of her stockings.
Finally, his fingertips reached her panties and she felt him chuckle softly. Shame sent a blush to her cheeks. She was so wet she’d soaked through the fabric and she could feel his touch, now slick with her arousal, tracing patterns over her inner thighs. Then that fleeting touch brushed against her clit and her hips jerked in response.
The second slap landed on her other thigh and Verity yelped in shock, the sharp pain temporarily breaking through the haze of pleasure.
“What did I say?”
Verity groaned, trying to bring her unruly muscles back under control, but the next slap landed on exactly the same spot with significantly more force.
“I repeat. What did I say?”
“No moving,” she replied, the words forced out from between clenched teeth.
“Good girl.”
His hand soothed over the livid mark on her thigh and, past shame, she whimpered with relief when his fingers returned to trace slowly up the seam of her panties.
Relentlessly he played over the gauzy fabric, his touch bringing her steadily towards the quivering peak but remaining too light to tip her over the edge.
Damn him. He wanted her to beg for it. Determined not to give him the satisfaction she leaned forward and rested her head on the cool surface of the desk. Teeth sinking into her lip with the effort of staying silent and keeping the words inside, she closed her eyes, surrendering to the bliss-laden sensation.
Despite her best efforts, she heard herself whimper with relief when she finally felt him tug his zipper open. Putting up no resistance she let him lift her from his lap, dragging her panties to one side and positioning her above the broad head of his cock. For a long moment he held her motionless, the barest brush of velvet skin against her heated core, before slowly sinking his full length deep inside her.
Revelling in the almost overwhelming sensation of being filled to the brim, Verity groaned and arched her back as she clenched around him.
The unexpected slap to her thigh shattered the moment and she ground her teeth in frustration.
“No moving, no wriggling and absolutely no clenching.”
She could hear the smirk in his tone, but her whine of frustration was interrupted as he placed one broad hand on her back, pressing her firmly onto the desk until her flushed cheek was resting against her hands.
The lightly teasing fingers had now stopped, leaving her nothing to focus on other than the stretch and weight of his cock inside her and the pinch from her displaced underwear digging into the crease of her crotch.
A few seconds later she heard a flutter of paper and her eyes widened. Was he fucking working? Seriously? She clenched her teeth, feeling the tears pricking her eyes at the realisation that this torture wasn’t about to end any time soon.
The minutes stretched out, increasing the tension on her frayed nerves until she was quivering like a plucked bowstring.
Uncomfortably aware that she was starting to mouth, thankfully silent, words begging for release into the backs of her hands, now slick with her own drool, she swallowed hard and tried to calm her breathing.
The sensation of being utterly filled and completely powerless was overwhelming, obliterating every other thought in her head. It was too much - far, far too much and yet, nowhere near enough. She felt suspended by sensation - dangling over a gaping chasm - unable to think and barely able to breathe.
Just when she feared those words would not remain silent much longer, and she was prepared to humiliate herself completely by begging him for what she so desperately needed, Cross suddenly shifted position, spreading his thighs wider and Verity couldn’t hold back the moan of gratitude as the movement sank him even deeper inside her.
Vividly aware of the pulse throbbing between her legs she tried to remember how to breathe. Then he shifted again, the head of his cock nudging hard against a different spot deep inside her and she almost climaxed on the spot.
“Not yet,” he murmured and Verity could have wept. Every nerve in her body was screaming for release, that little death so tantalisingly close, but still held firmly out of her reach.
“Count down from ten.”
“What?” Barely able to follow simple instructions anymore, Verity swallowed hard to force some moisture into her mouth.
“Count down from ten,” he repeated
“Ten, nine, eight–”
“Slower. Start again.”
“Ten… nine… eight…”
Without warning, Cross moved his fingers directly to her clit, tapping firmly against the screaming bundle of nerves and Verity jerked in response. The teasing fingers immediately vanished.
“I didn’t say you could move. Start again.”
“You have got to be kidding me, you fucker!”
“For that, you can start from twenty,” he said and his fingers returned to her drenched core, now lightly circling the throbbing bud.
Any resistance obliterated under the sheer weight of need Verity groaned and then resumed the slow count, each number uttered as both plea and curse.
When she finally reached ‘one’, the word was driven from her lips as a scream as Cross surged to his feet and slammed his hips into her ass, driving her hard against the edge of the desk and embedding himself deeper than she would have thought possible.
A dozen brutal thrusts was all it took to hurl them both over the edge; curses, prayers and groans filled the air, leaving Verity unsure who had uttered what.
Limp and wrung out, she remained motionless, slumped over the desk as he peeled himself away from her body and slowly withdrew; the loss of him forcing another moan from her dry throat.
Unable to even lift her head, she closed her eyes when a warm damp cloth ran slowly over her limbs and between her legs, cleaning away the evidence of what had taken place.
Conscious thought gradually returned and she screwed her eyes more tightly closed, wanting to silence the internal voices. She wasn’t entirely sure what had just happened and certainly wasn’t ready to examine it further. Sex had become little more than a commodity to her for a number of years now and to have it suddenly revert back to something so overwhelming and so… intimate was jarring.
Not able to deal with the backlash, particularly with him still looming over her, watching every reaction, she pushed herself upright and turned away. Feeling very naked and uncomfortably vulnerable she struggled back into her clothing, numb fingers fumbling with the buttons. Half expecting him to try and stop her she muttered, “I need to go,” hoping the words sounded firmer than she felt.
But Cross merely nodded, a disconcerting smile playing about his lips as he waved her towards the door. He had his phone in his hands, she noticed, steady fingers typing out a short message before hitting send and returning the device to his pocket.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said and then added, “sleep well.”
Unsettled by the gleam of triumph in his eyes, Verity nodded, not trusting herself to speak, and let herself out of the office.
***
Tired, sore and still distinctly unsettled, Verity stumbled up the stairs to her flat, picking her way through the usual detritus that had gathered during the day. When she reached her door she stared in confusion at the carrier bag swinging from the handle - then her face broke into a grin.
Chris had done it! He’d remembered!
Any lingering sense of exhaustion vanished as she quickly let herself into the flat, nudged the door closed with her shoulder and turned the lock. Once secure, she unwrapped the layers of newspaper protecting the long-stemmed wine glass and held it up to the light. Five perfect fingerprints revealed themselves against the smooth glass and she felt a grin stretch across her face.
Quickly retrieving the supplies she needed from their hiding place, she set to work.
First she applied a light layer of powder to enhance the ridge detail, then she gave the bottle of liquid latex a quick shake before dripping it over the tip of her index finger. Blowing lightly on the viscous fluid to even out the surface she waited for it to become tacky before pressing it firmly against the print and holding it in place.
Within a few seconds it had dried and she was able to peel one perfect fingerprint away from the glass.
Rolling it off her finger, she dropped it into a clean contact lens case and stowed it safely in the bottom of her bag. Right now, she had no idea what she was going to do with it, but it always paid to be prepared. And for the first time in weeks, she finally felt like she had options.