Chapter 25
TWENTY-FIVE
nathaniel
We step back into the Celeste Bartos Forum, and for once, the crush of light and sound doesn’t feel like a gauntlet. The glass dome glows overhead, warm instead of blinding, and the applause that rises as the servers wheel out the three-tiered cake feels oddly…welcome.
Candles flicker against polished marble, strings swell, someone calls for another round of champagne. It’s the exact sort of tableau the Caldwells are known for, but the usual tightness in my chest is absent.
My mother stands in the center, already glowing under the dome. My father stays close, a steady anchor at her side, content to let the room orbit her.
When the photographer gestures for us to join, Olivia moves first—grace put into motion.
Her hand slides into mine without hesitation, and flashbulbs catch it immediately.
I rest my hand at her waist. Everyone else will think it’s just good manners.
Only I know it’s restraint—a leash on the want clawing up my spine.
My mother laughs, and my father leans into her, the picture of long-settled affection. When I adjust my cuff—still slightly askew from our tryst in the rotunda—my father’s eyes flick down, then back up to mine. A single, unmistakable look. Dry amusement, the ghost of a smirk.
I feel my ears heat.
I look away and fix my gaze back on Olivia instead. Under the lights, she is luminous—mythic, even. A goddess among mortals.
The photographers notice it too. “Mr. Caldwell—just one more with your girlfriend!”
The title lands off-key. It doesn’t touch what she is to me.
Girlfriend is what you call someone who occupies the edges of your life. Olivia is the center of mine—the pulse beneath my ribs, the axis around which everything turns.
Across the room, near the champagne tower, Anne’s laughter cuts through the noise.
It’s bright at first, then falters when her eyes meet mine.
I watch the recognition pass over her face—the way her eyes take in the loosened line of my bow tie, the barely tamed state of my hair, the flush that hasn’t fully left my skin.
A slow smile spreads across my face. I don’t break eye contact as I pull Olivia closer and press a kiss to her temple—tender for the cameras, pointed for Anne.
My girl giggles sweetly, leaning into me and settling her hand over my chest. She has no idea she just delivered a finishing blow.
I don’t miss the way Anne’s jaw tenses. She lifts her champagne in a brittle attempt at nonchalance, but the motion is too stiff, the glass catching light like a flare. Her expression betrays her wounded pride.
Good. I want her to understand that no part of me is hers to reach for anymore.
Mother is still greeting donors, her laugh bright and effortless. Father has a senator by the elbow, nodding along with that patient, patrician ease he’s perfected over decades. The room buzzes with conversation and applause and clinking glassware—all of it polished, choreographed, contained.
But I am done performing.
The taste of Olivia is still on my tongue; the imprint of her trembling beneath my hands still hums along every nerve. Standing here is suddenly unbearable—too bright, too public, too far from where I want her.
A small gap opens in the crowd. The path toward the archway clears like a door swinging wide.
That’s all the permission I need.
I guide Olivia forward with a hand at her back—possession threaded with restraint, the only outlet I’m allowing myself until I have her alone again.
She glances up at me, cheeks still flushed from the cameras, unaware of the storm I’m holding back. That soft, trusting look nearly undoes me.
I steer us toward the archway, each step an act of will.
I’m half-delirious with need, with the memory of her legs trembling around my shoulders, with the knowledge that she chose me again and again tonight—publicly, fiercely, without hesitation.
I can’t spend another moment in this crowd.
I need her. And I’m done pretending otherwise.
The moment we step outside, the night air cuts in—cool and bracing, welcome after the heat simmering under my skin. Marble throws the flash of cameras back at us in hard bursts of light. Voices call our names. The whole sidewalk buzzes.
I keep my hand at the small of Olivia’s back, steering her through the noise until the black Rolls-Royce glides to a stop at the curb.
The driver steps out and opens the door. Olivia slips in first; I follow, reaching past her to hit the privacy control, the screen rising and sealing us off from the world.
Before she can even turn to face me, the last of my control slips and I’m hauling her into my lap.
Her breath catches—a soft, startled sound that melts into a low laugh, warm against my throat.
“Needy, aren’t you?” she teases, her lips brushing my ear. “Still so hungry even after making a feast of me?”
“Starving,” I breathe, the word dragging out of me like it’s been trapped behind my teeth. I kiss along the column of her neck. She tilts her head, offering me more. “Can I have you now?” My voice scrapes out of me.
“Yes, my sweet boy.” Her fingers slide into my hair, stroking the back of my head. The touch hits like a current. I shudder helplessly. “I promised you, didn’t I?”
“Fuck…yes.” My grip tightens on her hips. “I deserve it. I was so good for you, wasn’t I?”
I pull back to see her face. I need to know she means it.
The cabin light brushes over her features, soft and devastating. It knocks the breath right out of me.
She cups my cheek, her thumb brushing the corner of my mouth. “Shh,” she soothes. Then, another gentle stroke along my jaw. “Yes, you were perfect, my love. You made me feel so good. As only you can.”
The words land deep, settling into the part of me that still fears losing her.
Her hand drifts down between us, fingers finding my belt.
“Take it,” she whispers. “You’ve earned it.”
I cover her hand with mine, fumbling to help even though she hardly needs me. She laughs, amused by how clumsy I’ve become in my haste, and keeps working the buckle open.
She lifts her hips a little to give me room. I tug everything down in one rough motion, just far enough, the need in me too sharp to bother with grace.
My cock springs free, hard and gleaming with precum.
And then, she lowers herself back onto my lap. I groan into her shoulder at the contact because she’s already wet and warm under her skirt.
It hits me then—she’s been bare beneath her dress for hours.
I never gave her panties back. They’re still in my pocket.
Every photograph that goes to print tomorrow will show her flawless and composed…while only I know what was missing beneath the hem.
God, I can feel her pussy getting wetter as she rubs it against me. My hands slip under her skirt, settling on her ass. Then, she squeezes her legs around me, her knees digging into my hips, grinding on my dick.
“F-fuck,” I choke. “Baby…”
Her hand slides up my chest and curls around my throat.
“You always beg to hear me say I’m yours.” She flexes her fingers experimentally, drawing a gasp from me. “But looking at you now… I see the truth. You want to belong to me even more than you want to own me. Isn’t that right, my love?”
“Yes…” I groan as she rolls her hips.
“I thought so,” she says, smiling sweetly while continuing her torturous ministrations. “You may want all of me, Nathaniel…but you’re dying to give me all of you.”
“Yes… I want to be yours,” I beg, mindless for her. “Please, baby. Let me be yours.”
She releases my throat and rises to her knees. Her hand wraps around my dick, positioning me at her slick entrance. “You already are,” she whispers. “Now be a good boy and fuck me like you’re mine.”
That’s all I need. I thrust myself deep in one stroke, drawing a rasping cry from her.
“Fuck,” she moans, a shudder running through her. “Nate…”
She’s clutching my shoulders for purchase, arching at the sensation of my cock sliding in and out of her. It feels like heaven, but somehow…I need more.
“Give me proof,” I say. “I want proof that I’m yours.”
“Is this not enough?” she whispers against my ear and presses a kiss to my neck.
“No.” I slide a hand to the back of her head, gentle but insistent, keeping her lips against my skin. “Mark me. Leave evidence that you’ve claimed me. Please, Olivia.”
She continues to kiss up and down my neck, and I think she’s going to deny me, but then she finally sinks her teeth into my skin.
It hurts so fucking good. And the way she’s sucking and licking me better with her tongue drags a moan out of me.
“That’s it,” I groan as she bites me again. “Harder, baby. Please.”
She bites down again, likely drawing blood this time. My cock jumps inside her at the sensation. “Is this what you wanted?” she asks, tongue flicking against the wound.
I nod. “It’s what I needed.” I press her flush against my body, thrusting upward, hitting as deep inside as she can take. She throws her head back with pleasure. “And now, I need you to come on my cock, baby.”
I wet my fingers in my mouth and work her clit. I don’t relent even when she begins to squirm and whimper.
“Let me be good for you one more time.” My fingers are slick and steady, determined to get her there.
Soon enough, her pussy tightens around my length, and I feel the exact moment the orgasm ripples through her entire body. Her eyes squeeze shut with her climax, nails digging into my shoulders as she tenses. A soundless scream escapes her wide-open mouth, and I’m sure it’ll be the end of me.
Gathering her as close as possible, my thrusts grow erratic. When I can’t take anymore, I let the light blind me as I release inside her.
Steam softens the room, blurring marble, fogging glass, and turning the skyline into a scatter of slow-moving light. We sink into the tub opposite each other, our legs finding their way together under the water. The afterglow settles around us, softening the edges of the night.
Water slips against skin. Our breathing falls into the same rhythm.