Chapter 15
Thalia
CAREY OPENED THE door to a greenhouse. Aromatic flowers filled the room, diffusing a beautiful scent. He practically dragged me here away from the party and I was still stumped as to why. He closed the door and let go of my hand. "Why didn't you tell me?"
“Huh?” Confusion hit me for a second before I grasped his meaning. His dad. The announcement he made, as well as insinuating I knew what he was going to do. "I'm not—I had no idea he would do this."
"Uh, huh? Sure. Is that why you made me donate the two million dollars last night? It was all part of your plan, wasn't it?"
"Carey. Your father never approached me with a plan or scheme to—"
"Well, that's just not true, is it?"
That goddamn marriage deal. "I mean now. I didn't speak to him about this. If I did, I would have told you."
"Like you've told me before?"
"Do you not want a political career?"
"On my own terms! Not with my father and my wife puppeteering every move I make!"
"I did not control anything. I didn't know about this. The donation was a mistake, like I told you."
He stared at me. His silence was unnerving. His gaze traveled up and down my body, taking in my white midi dress. I held his gaze and did not falter. He could accuse me of many things, but I was innocent of this. His gaze locked with mine and something shifted in the air. His gaze raked me again, undressing me and I felt heat bloom in my cheeks.
"Carey," I tried once more.
"Stop talking."
I went silent.
Outside, the sun was descending rapidly. Garden lights flicked on, but the greenhouse remained dark. I could barely make out his features, except for his hot, scorching gaze. Was he thinking of the same thing I was thinking? How we almost slept together last night, but stopped.
He stalked towards me. I stepped back. He prowled to me like a lion and I made quick back steps until my back hit an obstacle. There was a table behind me with gardening tools. Carey closed the space between us and placed his palms flat on the table, on either side of my body.
"Carey."
"I said stop talking." He scanned my face. "You're so beautiful." It didn't sound like a compliment. "I used to jerk off to you when I was a teenager. Do you know that? Of course you don't. I made sure you'd never suspect I wanted to fuck your brains off in the back of the same car your father used to drive us to school. I'd always imagine stopping the car, telling your father to get out so I can make you suck my dick. And you know what, I knew you'd say yes, because even back then I could smell the desperate social climbing on you. You want it so bad you'd do anything. Did anything."
His face was so close if I moved an inch forward, we would kiss. I jerked my head to the side. "If you're so angry at being controlled, then why are you mad at me and not your father?"
"He's a known quantity. He never pretends to be something that he's not. You, on the other hand, looove doing that."
I stared right back at him. His eyes were too captivating for me to not be drawn in. His breath fanned my lips. Instead of being insulted by him, my groin tightened. I wondered what it would have been like had he followed through with his fantasy. He was right about one thing. I would have said yes. I should hate him, find him repellent, and yet I have to consciously still myself so I don't kiss him.
But it happened either way. I don't know who started, but our lips ended up touching and his tongue was clashing with mine like we're in battle for dominance. He wanted to dominate me, and I wanted to prove to him I was my own person. I felt like slipping and held on to his chest. Clinging onto his shirt as I kissed him back. He moved his hands to my back, touching me everywhere before lifting me and set me down on the table. He pushed my legs open and stepped into the center. His groin touched mine. Rubbed against mine. Teasing me. His cock getting bigger, the harder he pressed against me.
"You have no control over me," he whispered against my lips and traveled down my nape. Kissing and biting as he made his way to my cleavage. He pushed the dress down with his teeth and let it rest beneath my breasts before unclasping my bra and freeing them. He drew back and gazed at them under the little light streaming in from outside. Clasping one breast, he claimed the other with his lips and twisted while biting. Was it punishment? Or was it pleasure? It felt like both, and the pleasure won out as he continued his torture. Slowly driving me insane with lust. I was humping him now. I wanted him inside me. It had been a year since we last had sex and my desire was more than I could bear.
I bit my cheek so I would not scream when he slid his hand up my dress, past my panties and onto my clit. He flicked my clit while suckled my breast. I writhed and stifled moans. Raked my hands in his hair. Down his back.
Then I heard movements outside. People walking as grass whispered their footsteps. I froze. "Carey."
Carey continued his onslaught. He inserted a finger into my pussy, making me buck. "Carey, someone's on their," my breath hitched when he bit my nipple, "their way here. Oh, fuck." He inserted another. "Fuck Carey." His fingers were strumming my pussy, and I felt helpless in his arms. "Carey."
He let go of my breast and straightened, his fingers still inside me, his thumb still on my clit. "I say when. You don't control me."
His words were barely making sense as he increased his thrust. I was getting closer and closer to the edge and just when I was about to come, he withdrew, unbuckled his belt, took out his throbbing cock and he entered me with a single thrust.
One. Two. The. Four. And I was coming. I covered my mouth as my pussy walls milked his cock while he thrust so hard that the table moved. If the people outside were any closer, I'm sure they could hear us. He held my waist tight. I could feel his orgasm approaching. His thrusts were frenzied and his grip on my waist almost punishing. I loved it. Just as he was about to come, he pulled out of me and his cock pulsed as cum splattered onto the table beside me.
I crumbled flat on to the table, my gaze to the glass ceiling that showed a clear starlit sky.
That felt good. Too good.
I turned my gaze back to Carey and saw him staring at me. We gazed into each other's eyes and in that greenroom, surrounded by sweet flowery scents, a connection enveloped us, and just as quickly it came, it dissipated. His eyes narrowed, and he stepped away from me. Suddenly, I remembered where I was, who I was with, and what we had just done.
A few minutes ago, he had been accusing me of working with his father, and instead of defending myself, I let him have his way with him like I was a fuck doll he could use to exorcise his frustrations. And shamefully, I liked it.