19. Blythe #2
Delphine returned to the podium, her smile serene.
“Well,” she said. “That was certainly more exciting than my speech.” She turned to the security team near the entrance.
“Would you please escort Stan, Bernadette, and Sandrine Chadwick from the premises? I’m afraid they’re no longer welcome at this event. ”
Stan was shouting something. Birdie was crying. Sandrine was rigid with fury. But security was already moving, already guiding them toward the exit, and the crowd was already turning back to their conversations like nothing had happened.
Persona non grata. In one night, at one event, with one speech.
Blair leaned over. “That was incredible.”
“That was necessary.” I picked up my fork. “Now let’s eat. I’m starving.”
We ate. We talked. We laughed. And when the music started, Reid pulled me onto the dance floor.
His arms around my waist, my hands on his shoulders. We moved together in the warm light, surrounded by people who were finally on my side.
“You were magnificent,” he murmured against my ear.
“I know.” I smiled up at him. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“Yes, you could have.” His hand pressed into the small of my back, possessive, fingers flexing. “You just would have done it slower.”
We danced. The music swelled. His body was warm against mine, solid and big, and I could feel the exact second his cock started hardening against my stomach. His eyes went dark and hungry.
“I’m going to the bathroom,” I murmured, rising onto my toes so my lips brushed his jaw. And winked.
He nodded once, jaw tight. His hand squeezed my waist hard enough to promise everything.
I slipped away through the crowd, heart already pounding, found the single bathroom at the back of the tent. Checked my reflection, touched up my lipstick, smoothed the silk of my dress. Waited, pulse throbbing between my legs.
The door opened thirty seconds later.
Reid stepped inside, locked it with a decisive click, and turned.
“Hey,” I said, already breathless.
“Hey yourself, menace.”
He crossed the tiny space in two strides and crashed his mouth onto mine.
No sweetness. Pure urgency. Months of watching me destroy his enemies, of dancing with me in public while he stayed half-hard, of knowing I was his and still not being inside me tonight until this exact second.
His mouth was all teeth and champagne and pure want.
One hand fisted in my hair, the other already shoving my dress up my thighs.
I gasped against his lips as he lifted me onto the narrow marble counter one-handed. My back hit the mirror. Cold glass. Hot man.
“Fuck, look at you,” he growled, yanking my panties to the side instead of bothering to take them off. Fingers sliding through the mess already waiting for him. “Soaked. You sat through that whole speech, ruined your ex, and got this wet for me?”
“You trying to take credit for my victory orgasm?” I shot back, already rocking against his hand. “I did the hard part. You just looked pretty.”
He laughed, dark and rough, and buried two fingers in me to the knuckle, no warning, no mercy. “Pretty? I’ve got my fingers buried in my wife’s dripping cunt in a public bathroom and you’re calling me pretty?” He curled them hard, rubbing that perfect spot. “Say thank you.”
“Make me-”
Someone knocked on the door. Sharp. Impatient.
“It’s busy,” I called, voice cracking right in the middle as Reid scissored his fingers and thumbed my clit at the same time.
“Hurry up in there!” a woman’s voice snapped.
Reid’s eyes met mine in the mirror, wicked. He freed one hand just long enough to unzip, shove his trousers and briefs down far enough to free that thick cock. It slapped against my thigh, heavy and already leaking.
“Better be quiet then,” he murmured, lining up. “Unless you want half of Newport knowing exactly how hard I’m about to fuck you.”
He thrust in to the hilt in one brutal stroke.
I bit his shoulder to muffle the moan. Full.
Stretched. The counter creaked. He didn’t give me time to adjust, just started pounding, deep and filthy, the counter knocking the wall with every stroke, loud enough to be a confession.
One hand clamped over my mouth, the other gripping my hip hard enough to bruise as he snapped his hips.
“That’s it. Take it. Fucking ruin this combative little pussy for me after you just ruined a whole family.
” His voice was a filthy scrape against my ear.
“You have any idea how hard I’ve been since you stood at that podium?
Watching you destroy him. Watching everyone cheer for my wife.
Needed to get inside you the second you sat back down. ”
I moaned against his palm, legs wrapping tighter around his waist, ankles locked to drag him deeper. The angle was perfect, every thrust dragging over my clit and that spot inside until I was shaking.
Another knock, louder. “Is everything all right in there?”
Reid dropped his hand from my mouth just long enough for me to gasp, “Fine! Just - fixing my dress-”
He slammed back in and slapped his hand over my lips again, grinning like a lunatic. “Liar. You’re getting railed on a bathroom counter and loving it. Squeezing me so fucking tight. You gonna come on my cock while some poor woman waits outside? Do it. Soak me. Let me feel you lose it.”
I came hard, crying out into his palm, pulsing around him in waves that made his rhythm stutter. He pounded me through it, rhythm falling apart, greedy and graceless at the end.
“Fuck - Blythe-” He buried himself deep and came with a broken groan, flooding me in thick pulses while his whole body shuddered.
We stayed locked like that for a long moment, breathing hard, foreheads pressed together, his cock still twitching inside me. My lipstick was destroyed. His hair was a mess. The mirror behind me was fogged.
“We should go back,” he rasped, not moving.
“Probably.” I flexed around him just to watch his eyes roll. “You’re still half hard.”
“Keep clenching like that and I’m going again. Don’t test me.”
Another impatient knock.
He finally pulled out, both of us hissing at the loss. Come dripped down my thigh; he caught it with two fingers and pushed it back inside me with a filthy look that promised we’d finish this later.
“Mine,” he muttered, straightening my panties like that made any of this presentable.
We fixed what we could. Dress smoothed. Hair finger-combed. His cum still slick between my legs every time I moved. I looked thoroughly fucked and glowing and didn’t care one bit.
He took my hand, unlocked the door, and we walked out past a very unimpressed older woman whose eyes went wide.
Reid nodded politely. “All yours.”
We stepped back into the warm light of the gala, music and champagne and victory still humming through the tent. His thumb stroked over my knuckles. I squeezed once.
I had never felt more powerful in my life.