Chapter 11 #2
He tightens his grip on my hair, pulling harder, and I cry out against his hand, the mix of pleasure and pain pushing me higher. His eyes are locked on mine in the mirror, a storm of lust and something darker swirling in their depths.
"Say my name," he demands, moving his hand slightly so I can speak, his hips slamming into me with a force that leaves me breathless.
"Dax," I moan, the word breaking on a gasp as he drives into me harder, faster.
His pace is relentless, his cock hitting every nerve, every sensitive spot, and I can feel the tension building again, coiling tighter and tighter in my core.
"That's it," he growls, his voice rough and guttural.
"Come for me, Scarlett."
His words send me spiraling, my orgasm tearing through me with blinding intensity. My legs shake as I cry out, my body clenching around him, and the sensation is too much for him to hold back.
"Fuck, Scarlett," he groans, his hips bucking erratically as he spills inside me, his warmth filling me completely. He stills, his cock throbbing as we both ride the waves of our release, our bodies trembling and slick with sweat.
Slowly, he pulls out, and I feel the loss acutely. He steps back, zipping his pants, his breathing heavy as he watches me.
I turn to face the mirror, my reflection showing exactly what we just did. My hair is disheveled. My lips are swollen. My dress is wrinkled. I look thoroughly fucked.
I smooth down my dress, my hands trembling as I try to make myself presentable. Dax is behind me, watching me in the reflection as he adjusts his tie and slips his suit jacket back on.
"Scarlett," he says, his voice softer now.
I meet his eyes in the mirror.
He pulls out his phone. "Give me your phone."
I hesitate, my purse still on the counter where I left it. I retrieve my phone and hand it to him.
He takes it, his fingers moving quickly across the screen as he enters his number. Then he dials it, letting it ring. His phone buzzes in his pocket.
"There," he says, handing my phone back.
"Now I have yours too."
I stare at the contact he's created. Just his name. Dax.
"This isn't over," he tells me, his tone leaving no room for argument.
I don't respond. Don't know what to say. Part of me wants to argue, to tell him this was another mistake. But I can't form the words.
He steps toward me, cupping my face in his hands. He kisses me one more time—rough and possessive, a claiming—before pulling away.
He walks to the door, unlocking it carefully. He peeks out into the hallway, checking that it's clear. Then he glances back at me once more.
"I'll send you a message in a few minutes."
And then he's gone, slipping out of the bathroom and disappearing down the corridor.
I stare at my reflection again, trying to process what just happened. My body is still humming. My legs are still shaky. I can feel him inside me, the evidence of what we did.
I take a deep breath and fix myself as best I can. Adjust my panties. Smooth my dress. Fix my lipstick. Run my fingers through my hair until it looks less like sex hair and more like I've just been dancing. Gathering my composure, I unlock the door and step out.
I make my way back through the corridor, through the crowd, to where I left Jane and Sarah at the bar. They're still there, laughing with a group of men. Sarah is tipsy, leaning against the bar. Jane is in full flirt mode, her hand on some guy's arm.
"There you are!" Sarah spots me first.
"Where'd you go? You were gone forever!"
Jane turns, her eyes knowing.
"Everything okay with Dax?"
"Just needed some air," I lie.
"We talked. Cleared the air about... everything."
Sarah nods, already distracted by her drink and the men around us. Jane studies me for a moment longer, her gaze searching, but she doesn't push.
We continue drinking. Dancing. Pretending everything is normal. But I can't focus. Can't stop thinking about what just happened in that bathroom. Can't stop feeling the phantom touch of Dax's hands on my body.
Across the lounge, I see Dax returning to his table. To his clients. He sits down, picking up the conversation like he wasn't just fucking me against a bathroom mirror five minutes ago.
He glances back at me once.
The look sends heat coursing through my body all over again.
An hour passes. Jane and Sarah are ready to call it a night, both of them exhausted and drunk. I'm relieved. I need to get out of here before I do something even more reckless.
But before we can leave, I see Dax stand from his table. He shakes hands with his clients, the picture of professional courtesy.
Then he turns, scanning the lounge one more time. His eyes find mine across the crowd.The pull is magnetic. Undeniable. Even from this distance, I feel it.
He holds my gaze for a long moment. Then he turns and walks toward the exit. I watch him go, my phone heavy in my purse where his number is now saved.
"Ready?" Jane asks, linking her arm through mine.
I nod, tearing my gaze away from the door Dax just walked through.
"Yeah. Let's go."
We gather our things and head out into the New York night. The cool air hits my flushed skin, helping me think clearly for the first time in hours.
My phone buzzes in my purse.
I pull it out.
Dax: I meant what I said. This isn't over.
I stare at the message, my heart racing all over again. Jane and Sarah are flagging down a cab, oblivious to the storm brewing inside me. I slip my phone back into my purse without responding.
But a small part of me thinks he’s right…