Chapter 27 #2
My gaze shifts higher, following the path my forefinger dares to blaze to the apex of her thighs.
Fuck. Her pussy is covered by a thin white thong.
The tip of my finger slips beneath the seam, and I close my eyes for a heartbeat to rein in my own desire.
I could come from just toying with her panty line, feeling the heat from the place I've visited in my head, with my hand wrapped firmly around my cock, countless times.
Her hand hasn't returned to stop me. She's aware of what I'm after, and she's letting me stay.
I hate that it feels like I'm taking advantage, crossing lines she might not let me cross if she knew everything.
But something she said in that barn keeps echoing in my head.
When I tried to stop, tried to be the gentleman and say we should talk first, she said it wouldn't change anything. That she wants this. Wants me.
Their conversation becomes background noise as I let myself get lost in her, but then I hear her say, "You knew I would tell London. You knew who I was all along, and you knew, regardless of who hurt who, my loyalty lies with him, and I would rat you out."
And I'm done. Done waiting for the perfect moment.
Done letting other people interrupt what's ours, stealing time that should belong to us.
Done watching her from across rooms full of people who don't know her the way I do, who don't see the fire behind her eyes or understand the way she bites her lip when she's thinking.
She can ignore my texts all she wants, but she can't ignore me forever.
Not when we're breathing the same air, not when I can see the way her shoulders tense every time my eyes land on her, knowing it's my gaze alighting the recognition in her veins.
There's no more teasing as her words hit a mark I didn't know I was waiting for, and I slide a thick digit into her tight hole.
Damn. Her pussy clenches hard around my finger, and fuck if it isn't the hottest thing I've ever seen—her swollen pink lips greedily taking what I'm giving her.
I've had her a total of two times now, but not like this.
I've never had my face between her thighs.
I haven't even tasted her yet, but I know there is no way I'm leaving things the way I did last time.
Her thighs instantly try to close. The intrusion came without warning, and I wish I could see her pretty face, see the ecstasy I know is there by the way her pussy is responding to my touch.
"I was counting on it," I hear Trigg say right before I run my tongue up her center. My God, she tastes better than I ever could have imagined. I groan deeply, a vibration that I know rumbles through her core when her thighs tighten around my head.
I should be focused on what my brother is saying, but so far I haven't caught anything I don't already know. I've known all along that Trigg's motives with Laney were shrouded in deception, but I've also suspected that their core revolved around someone and something else.
"Why?" I hear her ask, her tone breathy as I add another digit and pump two fingers deep.
"I guess you could say it's in my DNA. I'm the product of a secret, and I grew up in a family intent on keeping them. It feels like a survival mechanism. I have to know to be prepared."
Those words don't surprise me. I've felt similar sentiments after learning everything I didn't know existed after being dumped on my uncle's doorstep at eighteen.
This show he's been putting on with her for the past few weeks was posturing, him staying two steps ahead and plotting his next move.
I remove my fingers and slide both hands over her thighs until I have a handful of cheek in each hand.
The move grants her a small reprieve, and she uses it to ask, "Then I suppose you know what London is planning?"
Her voice is unsteady, and I can tell she's getting close.
The thrill of getting caught, coupled with what I'm doing to her, is utterly intoxicating.
My fingers dig into her flesh, and I pull her to the edge of her chair, where my tongue spears her pussy.
I hear the glass on the table rattle as she braces herself.
I wish I were a fly on the wall so I could see exactly what she's doing to avoid my brother's dissecting stare.
"No, but you're going to tell me," he states squarely. The demand should give me pause, but it doesn't. I can't. I have the only person I want, writhing against my lips. Whatever stunt he's pulling—score he's trying to settle—comes second to her pleasure.
"What makes you think I would do that?" Laney responds as I suck her clit into my mouth, her thighs now trembling.
"I think we both know the third person in your trifecta isn't inside nursing a migraine."
Now, that comment has me slowing my pace. There's only one person I've yet to see tonight.
"You may have noticed Sydney isn't the only person missing from tonight's festivities. Wouldn't you know Warrick Fairfield has yet to make an appearance at his own party," he says, and even I can hear the dramatic flair in his tone.
That's a big claim to make, but if I've learned anything about my brother, it's that he does his research.
I'm not thrilled, but Sydney is an adult.
She can do adult things with whomever she wants.
I can't tell her to stay away from someone when I can't even take my own advice.
I'm on my knees, devouring the woman I told myself I could never have again, my reasons evaporating with every exquisite swipe of my tongue as her legs quiver around me.
"So if I tell you what London's plans are regarding the land lease?—"
My fingers push inside of her, joining my tongue, and her thighs tremble against my shoulders. I can feel her fighting to keep her voice steady, to maintain the facade that she's having a normal conversation while I'm worshiping her beneath the table.
"I won't out your best friend for sucking your other best friend's dad's cock."
"And if I don't?" I hear the sharp intake of breath she pulls through her mouth as I feel her orgasm start to take root. She's fighting it, trying to hold her composure as her pussy strangles my fingers.
"You will." Trigg shifts, his legs now facing her. "But I'm not ruthless…" Then, knocking on the table, he says, "I'll let the two of you work out the details together this time. "
Fuck… I'm sure Laney is mortified right now. Her face is probably flushed with a mix of embarrassment and ecstasy, but my cock is weeping. I'm so turned on by the knowledge that my brother knows I'm under this table, taking my fill of MY woman.
Her hand returns under the tablecloth with a vengeance.
I know she wants to come, but she doesn't like having an audience.
Her fingers tug my hair hard, but it only makes me hold her tighter, keeping her in place.
If she didn't want this, she shouldn't have taunted me earlier about my aftercare.
She shouldn't have let me go this far. There's no going back.
"Oh yeah, you never answered my question earlier," Trigg adds fuel to the fire, staying put even though he knows she's on the brink of orgasm and his presence is the last thing she wants.
"Do you like your seat clean-shaven, or do you prefer the added stimulation that a beard gives as it rubs against your soft, delicate skin, reddening it and leaving its mark hours after the feast is over? "
Those words shatter her completely, and I crush her against my mouth, desperate to devour every tremor, every violent quiver as she convulses around my tongue.
The broken whimper that tears from her throat is mine, a raw confession I've ripped from her very core.
She's unraveling beneath me, every sound a surrender she can no longer deny.
With her defenses down, all that remains is pure, unfiltered truth.
I still own her the same way she's always owned me.
"I'm not answering that," she finally manages to choke out, her voice strangled as I lick her through the aftershocks, not wasting a single drop and claiming every part of her surrender in this moment, despite the chaos above.
"You don't have to. Your face just did." Then, just to ensure there's no mistaking that he's well aware I'm under the table, he slaps it one more time and adds, "Have a good night, brother."
And then he's gone.
The silence that follows is deafening, broken only by her ragged breathing and the distant hum of the party. My heart pounds against my ribs as the reality of what just happened, what Trigg just acknowledged, settles between us.
Slowly, carefully, I pull her thong back into place, my fingers gentle now.
I press a lingering kiss to each of her thighs, tasting salt and silk and the lingering evidence of what we've just shared.
When I draw her dress down, smoothing the fabric with deliberate care, it feels like both an ending and a beginning.
I emerge from beneath the tablecloth like I'm surfacing from deep water, and I know exactly what I look like: hair mussed beyond repair, lips glossy and swollen, eyes dark with satisfied hunger.
The shit-eating grin spreading across my face is inevitable.
"How was that for aftercare?" I ask, my voice rough with the evidence of what I've been doing.
She opens her mouth, but no sound comes out.
Instead, her gaze travels over my disheveled appearance with an intensity that makes my skin burn.
I watch her take in every detail. The way my hair falls across my forehead, the way my lips catch the light, the way my breathing is still uneven.
When her teeth sink into her bottom lip, my mouth is instantly jealous.
"Heartbreaker," I murmur, leaning closer so only she can hear, "the crimson on your cheeks and the flush spreading down your throat says yes louder than words ever could." I nod toward the edge of the party. "Wanna get out of here?"
She nods, the movement sharp and desperate. "Unless you want to kiss me right here in front of everyone…yes."
My hand slides possessively around her waist as I rise, pulling her flush against me in one fluid motion. The heat of her body against mine sends electricity racing through my veins, and I have to fight the urge to lift her onto this table and finish what we started.
"Don't tempt me," I murmur, my voice a low growl against her ear. "I have no problem kissing you for the world to see."
To prove my point, my lips find hers in a kiss that's deliberately slow and unhurried, a stark contrast to the energy thrumming between us. I don't care who's watching, don't care about the conversations that might pause or the looks we might draw. Let them see. Let them know she's mine.
When I pull back, her lips are swollen, and her breathing is uneven.
"But I think we both know I want more than just a kiss.
.." My pulse hammers against my throat as my mouth trails along her jaw, tasting the salt of her skin.
"I want to kiss you while you're wrapped around me.
Apparently, I need to remind you how you scream for me.
" I taunt her with the lies she dared to spew earlier about what really transpired between us in that barn.
I let my teeth graze the shell of her ear, and she shudders against me. "What's it going to be, heartbreaker?"
Taking her hand, I guide it to the evidence of my desire, rock-hard and straining against my jeans. Her breath catching in her throat is music to my ears.
"If you keep biting that lip like that," I warn, watching as her teeth worry her bottom lip again, "I won't be able to wait until we're alone."
She nods breathlessly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I want you, London. I always want you."
Her confession knocks the wind out of me, stealing the air from my lungs.
Something fundamental shifts between us, the playful teasing dissolving into something deeper, more raw and honest. Her eyes search mine with an intensity that leaves me feeling exposed, and I know she sees it all: the longing I can never quite hide, the way I ache for her even when she's right here in my arms, the truth I'm too terrified to say out loud.
My forehead drops to rest against hers, and for a suspended moment, we just breathe each other in. The party fades to background noise, the world narrowing to just this, her warmth, her scent, the way she fits perfectly against me.
"Always?" I ask, my voice rough with wonder and something dangerously close to hope.
"Always," she confirms, her hands fisting in my shirt like she's afraid I might disappear.
I close my eyes briefly, letting the weight of that word settle in my chest. When I open them again, I make sure she sees me, really sees me, sees that the depth of what I feel for her lives eternally in my soul, the way she's carved herself into every corner of my heart.
My hand slides to the small of her back, pulling her impossibly closer until there's no space left between us.
"Let's get out of here," I say, my voice thick with promise. "Because I need to show you exactly what 'always' means to me."