10. Weston
Ten
Weston
I f I thought I could take Lena on a normal date this evening and have her play along… well, clearly I was wrong. There’s too much mess between us, too much distrust, and it’ll take time to win over her heart and brain as well as her body.
Time is something I do not have.
We have two more nights together after this. Two more nights for me to turn this ship around, to prove to Lena Merritt that I can admire her without reserve, trust her without caveats, love her without restraint.
This is a shit show of my own making. If Lena weren’t sprawled across my lap right now, begging for my touch beneath her dress, I’d think it a lost cause.
“You squirm for me so well, don’t you Lena?”
She nods, cheeks pink, and she can’t decide where to put her hands. She keeps clutching at my chest, my shoulders, the edge of the table beside her, my thighs beneath her legs—until I catch her wrists and loop her arms around my neck.
“Keep them there.”
If I need to order her to hold me like a lover, I’ll do it. Fake it ‘til you make it, as they say.
With our bodies close like this, I can feel every ragged breath whistling in and out of Lena’s lungs. Can smell her floral scent and feel her heat seeping through my clothes. Her breath is cool and sweet where it puffs against my neck—courtesy of her drink—and her glossy dark hair tickles my wrist where I brace one arm around her back.
We’re entangled.
Finally.
“Look around, Lena.”
She obeys instantly, her honey brown eyes darting around the shadowed club. Servers slip between tables, trays of drinks held aloft, as the silhouettes of patrons drink and talk and flirt.
“No one is watching us back here. We’re on the edges, forgotten. I could do anything to you, anything at all, and as long as you bite your pretty lip and keep quiet, no one will even notice.”
Lena is panting now, her breaths fogging against my neck. My hand is still against her thigh, refusing to slide any deeper beneath her dress. It’s made of midnight blue silk, short and slippery and maddening.
She’s maddening. Does Lena Merritt even know how fucking perfect she is? Not because of her family name—in spite of it. Has anyone ever told her?
“Please,” Lena whispers, leaning closer to rub her nose against my throat. When the hot tip of her tongue darts out, tasting my skin, my whole body goes rigid with desire.
I choke back a groan.
“Come on.” She’s getting impatient now, wriggling in my lap, kissing and mouthing at my neck. “What are you waiting for? Touch me. Make it good.”
Christ. Alright.
“Brat,” I say, inching my hand beneath her dress. A few days ago, that nickname would have been a weapon I hurled at her. Tonight, it’s fond. “Part your legs, then, if you’re so desperate to have my hands on you. Let me in.”
Lena’s legs slide wider apart, her dress riding up to her hips. A pale triangle of fabric winks at me from between her thighs: ivory lace.
And those panties… they’re fucking bridal . Innocent and demure and seductive, all in one go, and my heart drums a war beat in my chest. My mouth is so dry.
“Are these for me?” My thumb rubs against those panties, like I need to check they’re real. Soft lace and damp heat. “Did you dress up in these just for me, Lena? Hoping I’d peel them off you tonight?”
She nods, arms quivering where they’re looped around my neck. “Uh-huh.”
“And last night?” I scrape out, gaze darting quickly around the club before returning to Lena’s flushed face. “The night before last? Did you wear special panties on those nights too, hoping I’d see them?”
She shrugs, her pretty mouth curving up. Even wrecked and begging, even with her pupils blown wide, Lena’s still fighting me for control. I love it.
“Guess you’ll never know.”
A vicious growl slips out, and my thumb rubs at her harder, parting her folds beneath the ivory lace. Lena whimpers and wriggles, her hips lifting to chase my touch, and all the while she’s hanging from my neck like a monkey.
That damp heat soaking through her panties…
The humidity between her thighs…
Lena Merritt is wet for me, and she’s not trying to hide it. Not for a single second. She’s proud , defiance etched on her beautiful face as she rubs her panty-covered pussy against my thumb.
My chest cracks open, and if I’m not careful, all this goddamn longing will spill out and she’ll see before she’s ready.
“So damp,” I grit out, hooking my fingers in the waistband of her panties and tugging them down, down, down. Lena lifts her hips and helps me get them down her thighs. “These are ruined, baby. Let me take them off you.”
Past her thighs, they come off easily, snagging only briefly on Lena’s one remaining high heel. Jaw clenched, I untangle them carefully and slip the scrap of ivory lace into my pants pocket.
Lena laughs wickedly, then gasps when my hand strokes up her thigh once more.
Another quick check around the club. Servers flit between tables and booths, same as before, but our glasses are barely touched, and there’s no reason for them to bother us or look any closer. We’re tucked away in our private world, cloaked by shadows, and no one else can see the paradise between Lena’s thighs.
I can, though. I see everything. Her slick, swollen pussy, so needy for my touch; the blush that’s spreading up her chest and throat. I see every perfect detail of Lena Merritt as she bites her bottom lip, breath held as my hand glides closer.
“So soft,” I murmur, ducking down to kiss behind the shell of her ear. Her pulse taps here too, frantically enough to feel against my lip. “Your skin is like satin, Lena.”
She moans softly, arms tightening around my neck.
And suddenly I’m done teasing her. I’m done drawing this out and making her hold her breath.
The truth is, we’re both desperate for this—and if I don’t feel the slick evidence of Lena’s need for me soon, I’ll crack a molar.
Does she want me too? Is this real?
“ Oh .” Lena’s head tips back when my thumb traces along her seam. It’s the same way I touched her before, but now there’s no fabric between us. Nothing to stop me from feeling how drenched she is, needy and aching; how her whole body arches, trying to press me deeper.
“So fucking perfect,” I mutter, circling the tight bud of her clit. It’s already a done deal: Lena’s breathy moan will play on a loop in my brain until the day I die.
“ Weston ,” she says, head tilted back, eyes closed.
“You have no idea, baby. No fucking idea the effect you have. Everywhere you walk, men want to fall to their knees.”
And as I speak, that familiar old rage rears its head, bursting into flame inside my cracked chest. That old anger that I’m not good enough for a Merritt, could never be enough, that she’ll never see me as more than a temporary plaything.
My mouth tastes bitter and my throat is tight, and all the while my thumb is stroking, teasing, taunting. Working Lena’s body until she’s like a plucked string, taut and quivering.
“What would Hugh Merritt say if he could see us now? What would your father say, princess?”
Lena’s eyes crack open, and she spears me with a warning look. Her nails dig into the back of my neck. “ Don’t call me that. Not now.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue, every bad instinct inside me howling to say it again. To push my luck, to ruin this, to prove all those twisted fears right. To get the desolation over with.
Because I’m not good enough for Lena Merritt. Even if I work my whole life, dedicating myself to her happiness, I never will be.
But you don’t have to be such a prick about it , a voice in the back of my brain points out. The voice of reason, finally cutting through the bitter haze of my anger. Thank god.
Because Lena Merritt is in my lap right now, isn’t she? The fact that she’s letting me touch her like this means something. And if I break her trust now, if I throw this gift back in her face, there will be no recovery. I’ll never win her back.
“I’m sorry.” The words are alien on my tongue, because I didn’t build myself up from the gutter by admitting weakness. Ever. But weirdly… I don’t mind saying them to her. “Baby. I’m sorry.”
Lena relaxes in my hold again, her eyelashes fluttering back down. Her hips roll forward, urging me on, but I’m not done yet. My lips move to the shell of her ear.
“I’ll never call you that again in my life, Lena. We’re going to grow old together, you and me. We’re going to spend every night of the rest of our lives wrapped around each other, and you’ll never hear that name from me again. I swear.”
A shiver wracks through my girl, and goosebumps raise on her bare arms. Is it a potent fantasy for her too? Us being together that way? Or am I fooling myself, getting lost in wishful thinking?
Lena’s lips part when I slide a finger past her entrance. Not far—just to the second knuckle, so her tight little body can adjust. The searing heat inside her is enough to make my throat bob.
So slick. So tight.
How would it feel to press my cock inside her? To join our bodies that way, as close as we could possibly go, and to feel Lena’s most intimate muscles clutch at me?
I want that so badly, I’m dazed.
Distantly, I hear a smattering of applause travel around the club, muffled by the music. The performer is changing, but I don’t care enough to even glance over.
“Are you going to let me in here, Lena?” Her body softens around my finger, letting me press deeper. I stroke in and out, rubbing her sensitive walls, and mutter my words against her cheek, her ear, her throat. “Will you let me fuck you here one day?”
Her nod is wobbly. “Uh-huh.”
Jesus Christ.
It’s too much and not enough. More than I ever dared hope for, and so much less than what I want from this woman. What I need.
Do I desperately long to sink balls deep inside her perfect body? Yes, obviously.
But will that be enough? No, never.
I need her heart, her trust, and her love too. And to fuck her again and again, in every possible position and location, until Lena’s body is imprinted on mine.
How do I get there? It seems an impossible leap. Like staring across a ravine to paradise, and knowing that if I dare to jump, I’ll tumble down to the jagged rocks below.
“Tomorrow,” I grate out, my wrist starting to ache as I pump steadily inside her. I ignore the dull pain, and when I add a second finger, Lena muffles another groan. “Let me fuck you tomorrow, baby. Let me spread you out on my desk and make you mine.”
“That…” Lena’s forehead is hot as she rests it against my throat, and her whole body trembles as my hand works her. Thrusting and rubbing at her clit in a merciless rhythm. “That wasn’t our deal.”
“No. It wasn’t. So if you let me do it, I guess that means you want me too.”
Lena stiffens and lets out a wounded noise. Her channel clamps down on my fingers, muscles twitching around them as she comes and comes, silent pleasure wracking her slender frame. I kiss her temple and keep working her through it, teasing every last drop of pleasure from her body.
Lena doesn’t realize it yet, but there’s more than our bargain at stake now.
I’m not playing to torture her and let her go.
I’m playing to keep her forever.