Chapter 16 #3
She does. Clamping down hard around my fingers, crying out, her whole body shaking with it. I don't let up, keep working her clit through it until she's gasping, oversensitive, trying to pull away.
I pull my fingers out, position my cock at her entrance. She's so wet I can feel it on my skin before I even push in.
"Deep breath."
I thrust in hard, bury myself to the hilt in one stroke. She cries out, braces herself against the couch. I'm bigger than my fingers and she needs a second to adjust. I give her barely one. Then I start to move.
Hard and deep. No gentleness. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mixed with her broken moans and my harsh breathing. She's so wet I can hear it with every thrust.
"This is what you needed," I tell her, one hand gripping her hip hard enough to leave marks, the other tangled in her hair, pulling her head back. "To stop being in control. To let me use you. To just feel my cock inside you."
"Yes." The word comes out broken, desperate. "Yes, Sir, please—"
"Please what? You want more?"
"Yes, please, harder—"
I drive into her harder, deeper, angling to hit that spot inside her that makes her shake. She's close again already, still sensitive from the first orgasm. I reach around, find her swollen clit, work it with precise pressure.
"You're going to come on my cock. You're going to scream for me."
"I can't— too much—"
"You can. You will." I thrust in deep, grind against her. "Come. Now."
The command tips her over. She clamps down around me like a vice, her whole body going rigid, then convulsing. She screams my name, doesn't even try to stay quiet, the sound raw and primal.
I fuck her through it, chasing my own release. When I feel it building, unstoppable, I pull her upright against my chest, one hand around her throat, not squeezing, just holding, claiming.
"Where do I come?"
"Inside me." Her voice is wrecked, barely a whisper. "Please, Sir. Inside me."
I thrust in deep one more time and come hard, pulsing inside her, filling her. The orgasm rolls through me in waves, intense enough that I have to lock my knees to stay upright. I feel myself spilling into her, hot and thick, marking her as mine.
We stay like that for a long moment, both breathing hard. She's limp against me, supported only by my arm around her waist and my cock still inside her.
I ease out slowly, watch my cum start to leak out of her. She's boneless, completely spent. Her skin is flushed, sweaty. There are red marks on her hips from my grip. Her hair is a mess from my hands. My cum is dripping down her thighs. She's never looked more beautiful.
I scoop her up, carry her to my bedroom. She doesn't protest, just lets her head rest against my chest. I set her on the bed long enough to start the shower, then carry her into the bathroom.
The water runs warm. I step in with her, support her weight while I clean her gently. Wash the sweat and cum from her skin, work shampoo through her hair with careful fingers. She leans into me, eyes closed, trusting me completely.
When we're both clean, I turn off the water and dry her off with slow, gentle movements. Then I carry her back to bed, pull the covers over us both.
She curls into my side immediately, head on my chest, breathing steady.
I press a kiss to her hair, stroke her back in long, soothing motions.
"Better?" I ask after a while.
"Yes." Her voice is soft and calm. "My head's finally quiet."
"Good."
She's quiet for another moment. Then: "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For knowing what I needed."
I press a kiss to her hair.
We stay like that for a while longer. Then Simone shifts, sits up slightly.
"I need to finish preparing for the board meeting."
"Tomorrow. Tonight you rest."
"Luc—"
"Tomorrow," I repeat. "You're not in the right headspace to work on strategy tonight. Get some sleep. We'll tackle the board prep in the morning."
She doesn't argue. Just nods.
The next morning, we work on her speech for the board confrontation. Henry joins us via video call, offering legal perspective. Margot checks in with updates on Dominion's crisis management.
But the core of the speech comes from Simone.
"I'm not defending my choices," she says, typing on her laptop. "I'm not explaining or justifying. I'm owning them."
"Good," Henry says from the screen. "Confidence, not apology."
Writing continues. By afternoon, she has something solid. A statement that acknowledges what happened, refuses to be ashamed, makes it clear she's not stepping down.
"They can't force me out," she says, reading through the draft. "Question is whether they want to keep fighting or accept I'm staying."
"Some will keep fighting," I say.
"Let them. I'm done making this easy."
We work on refining the approach, coordinating with Henry, preparing for every angle the board might take. Patricia will try to make Simone's position untenable. Brandt will attack her judgment. Others will pressure for voluntary resignation.
The morning of the board meeting arrives.
I wake early, find Simone already up and getting dressed. She's not wearing casual clothes. She's in full CEO armor. There's a tailored suit, heels, hair and makeup perfect. She looks like she's heading into battle.
Which she is.
"Ready?" I ask.
"No." She meets my eyes. "But I'm doing this anyway."
"Good." I settle behind her. "They can't force you out. All they can do is make noise. Don't let them make you doubt yourself."
"I won't."
"And if they push too hard, you can turn this around on them. Ask for their resignations."
"I'll consider it."
She finishes getting ready. She checks her reflection one more time. The woman looking back runs LaCroix Petroleum. She leads a board. She commands a room.
"Let's go," she says.
She walks out—spine straight, heels sharp on the floor, every inch the woman who's about to make her board bleed for this vote.