Chapter 6 #3
Sarah stilled at her words. Excitement briefly crossed her face before she smoothed it away, but Nell caught it.
She leaned over slightly, then reached out and brushed a single finger down the inside of Sarah’s wrist—the same gesture from the Foxhall Club.
This time, instead of pulling away, she lingered.
Sarah’s breath caught, just slightly, lashes fluttering, chest rising and falling rhythmically.
Nell wrapped her fingers lightly around Sarah’s wrist, guiding her with careful ease until Sarah’s hand rested against her thigh. The heat of Sarah’s palm sending her senses spinning.
“Touch me,” Nell whispered, her grip on Sarah’s wrist tightening, emphasizing the importance of her words, “but only where I put you.”
Sarah flexed her hand, then stilled, resting it on Nell’s thigh like it was the most natural thing in the world. Nell leaned closer, her lips grazing Sarah’s cheek, hot breath forming the suggestion of a kiss. Sarah whimpered.
A satisfied smile tugged at Nell’s mouth as Sarah exhaled, her breath shaking—an involuntary sound that shot straight through Nell’s veins like lightning. But Sarah surprised her, staying perfectly still. Not moving, and not trying to take what she wasn’t given.
God, Sarah was going to ruin her in the best possible way.
With her free hand, Nell ghosted her fingertips down the line of Sarah’s arm, sending goose bumps erupting across her skin. A reward, yes, but also another promise: If you give me your trust, I will make it worth it.
She shifted slightly in her seat, pressing Sarah’s hand a bit higher up her thigh. “You like that?” she whispered.
Sarah’s eyes fluttered closed as she nodded. “God, yes.”
“You want me.” She stated the undeniable fact, keeping Sarah’s hand on her long enough to make her ache for more as the heat built between them.
She knew she could end it right here, right now. She could drag Sarah into her lap, slide her hands up Sarah’s toned thighs, and make her beg for it until her voice cracked and she came apart right there in the front seat. But what fun would that be?
“Not yet,” Nell whispered, in a tease.
With surgical precision, she pulled away from Sarah and reached for the gearshift, the car roared to life beneath her as she revved the engine.
Sarah barely had time to blink before Nell spun the wheel hard, whipping the car around in a perfect U-turn, tires kicking up a spray of dust and sand as the Aston surged forward, back toward the main road.
Sarah sat back, breathless, her thighs trembling, and Nell said nothing, her jaw set, eyes on the road. But her smile—that slow, knowing smile—lingered all the way home.
When they arrived back, the house was quiet, the distant sound of the bay barely brushing against the windows as Nell led Sarah inside and down the hall.
She opened the door to the guest suite at the end of the hall and gestured inside. The room was elegant but understated, coastal without being cliché, decorated with layers of cream and navy against dark walnut. A balcony overlooked the dunes and the water beyond.
“I trust you have everything you need,” Nell said. “If not, please let me know.”
Sarah turned and met her gaze. “I will. I have a voice; I should use it, right?”
Nell grinned as she stood in the doorway a little longer than necessary, savoring the way Sarah filled the space, how easily she belonged in it. She nodded, then stepped back into the hall. “Good night, Sarah.”
“Good night, Nell,” Sarah echoed, before clicking the door shut between them.
Nell’s body tingled with her restraint as she made her way to her own room.
She moved through her bedtime routine with mechanical efficiency.
When she finally slipped under the covers, she knew sleep was still far away as she stared up at the ceiling, letting herself replay the night in vivid detail: the way Sarah had leaned into her touch at the heliport.
How Sarah had so willingly handed control over to her tonight.
How the two of them had moved through the party, Sarah by her side—magnetic and undeniably hers.
Nell exhaled, moving her hand down the slope of her abdomen, her fingertips skimming the elastic waistband of her pajamas.
Her eyes shut as the memories of the evening came into focus, and she thought about the way Sarah’s eyes had been full of fire and submission.
The slight tilt of her chin when she held her ground.
The subtle way she yielded to her whispered commands.
Her hand slipped beneath the elastic, her body already buzzing with need.
A groan left her lips as damp arousal coated her fingers, the result of her desire for Sarah after a night of watching her succeed.
She moved two fingers in meticulous, unrushed circles around her clit, matching the same pace she had kept all night.
Every pass of her fingers, every breath she drew, was timed to the reel playing behind closed eyelids: Sarah’s voice, Sarah’s smirk, Sarah’s mind.
Sarah’s hands spreading obediently on the table that night at the Foxhall.
A pleased sound escaped her throat as the tension wound tighter inside her. This was what real power felt like. It wasn’t taken or forced. No, Nell knew that real power was built on trust. Tonight, Sarah had trusted her to lead.
Nell’s hips lifted into her own touch, a shudder breaking through the command she so carefully curated. Pressing her palm against her clit, she dipped one finger, then another inside herself, chasing the high Sarah had left simmering under her skin.
“Fuck,” she whispered hoarsely, as the wave she’d been riding in silence broke.
She lay there for a long moment afterward, one hand still splayed over her stomach, grounding herself, as her breathing returned to normal and a smile spread across her face. She was right. Sarah was going to ruin her. And Nell intended to enjoy every second of it.