Chapter 12 Violet
Chapter twelve
Violet
My pulse picks up at the sound of approaching footsteps. I’m not sure why. I’m not doing anything wrong. Maybe it’s because I’m enjoying the solitude, the escape from the mess of emotions I want to bury.
Champagne swirls in my veins, clouding my mind with thoughts of him. I like to wonder what Mom would say if she were here. I often talk to her in my head. Would she tell me to run or to dive in and live a little, consequences be damned?
I tip my head back, staring at the ceiling. “What now, Mom, huh? Why is it that someone so wrong feels so goddamn right?”
The footsteps get closer until they stop.
The sound of Nicki Minaj’s Monster verse a faint echo from the dancefloor.
An imperceptible shift in the air has me turning toward the door, my instincts firing off an alarm.
A shadow darkens the gap at the foot of the door.
The air stalls in my throat as the door handle lowers before it creaks open.
Chase materializes like a dark angel, a shadow in the dim light. He closes the door softly, locking it behind him—the sharp click seeping under my skin like pure adrenaline. My pulse stumbles, caught between wariness and... something far more dangerous. Far more thrilling.
He leans against the wall, arms folded, exuding an eerie calm, but I see through it. That barely leashed hunger. The wild beast clawing beneath the surface of his skin.
“Chase?” My voice climbs, thin with uncertainty. I clear my throat, forcing nonchalance. “Shouldn’t you be out there with your date?”
He tilts his head, watching me with that cool intensity. “She’s not my date, but I’m flattered you’re jealous, Violet.”
I scoff, folding my arms. “Please.”
“Adorable, even.” He smirks, his gaze flicking to my pebbled nipples—his arrogance telling him exactly what he already knows.
I take a breath that doesn’t quite steady me as he pushes off the wall, voice dropping—smooth, but with that quiet steel. “If I wanted her, why do you think I’m here with you?”
“I don’t know, Chase.” I keep my tone even, but my heart’s a hammer in my chest. “Why are you here?”
His gaze burns into mine as he stalks towards me, eating the space with slow, measured strides. My gaze flicks to the door, half-contemplating escape, the other anchored by the heat in those damn eyes. I send up another silent plea— run or stay, mom?... run or stay?—but it’s too late.
He’s already behind me.
So fucking close I can’t breathe.
A shiver runs through me as his fingers twist into a fistful of my hair, tilting my head back, his mouth grazing my ear like a soft drag of heat.
“You know why I’m here, Violet,” he murmurs, his chest brushing my spine.
“How long will we keep playing this game?” His lips graze my neck—so achingly slow, so devastatingly sensual.
I close my eyes, resisting the urge to lean into him.
“What game?” I manage barely.
“The one where you pretend you don’t want this,” he breathes. “The one I'll always win.”
His knuckles skim the swell of my breast, a feather-light touch that slides down over my stomach. Then lower—until he’s brushing against the silk between my thighs, a gentle caress that makes my body tighten in response.
I bite back a sound, my breath catching, legs trembling as every bit of resistance I have starts to fray.
“Did you really think I’d see you in this dress tonight and not want a taste?”
He fingers the strap of my dress, pushing it aside, his warm breath skating across my shoulder before he nips at the skin, the sharp bite stealing a gasp from my lips.
“I didn’t think of you when I was getting dressed,” I choke out, sarcasm crumbling into a whimper as his teeth sink into the slope of my neck.
He chuckles, low and wicked, the sound brushing over my skin like smoke.
“Pity,” he murmurs, easing the fabric lower. “But you can think of me while I undress you, Violet.”
A moan claws its way up my throat as his hand cups my breast, fingers teasing the taut nipple until my vision blurs. My head drops back onto his chest, my body melting into his, a quiet surrender threading through my limbs.
The second he senses I’m his, he draws me close—his smile dripping arrogance, hands locking on my hips, making sure I feel every hard inch of him.
A low, primal sound escapes him as I buck against him, chasing every grind of his hips.
He hikes up my dress, fingers skimming the lace of my thong before tugging at the elastic—each pull sending a pulse straight to my clit.
My lungs burn as his finger inches inside the seam, teasing through the swollen lips before pushing deeper.
“Watch yourself, Violet,” he growls, his hand gripping my chin, forcing my gaze to the mirror. My eyes snap open, meeting my reflection—expecting shame. Instead, I moan at the sight of my bare breasts, hard nipples straining against the top of my dress as I grind down on his finger.
“See what a good girl you are. How wet my little hellion is for me.” He brings his fingers to my mouth and lets me taste myself. He stares at my reflection as I lick his fingers clean, his jaw grinding, eyes blazing like he’s barely clinging on.
“You should know by now, Violet, that I always get what I want. And right now, you’re all that I want.
” I inhale a sharp breath as he peels off my panties, casting them aside with a groan.
His fingers replace the lace, slipping between my folds, his thumb circling the aching bud in slow, lazy strokes.
“I think this tight pussy wants to play with my tongue. Isn’t that right, Violet?”
A strangled “yes” breaks from my throat, a moan spilling over the word as his palm drags up my spine, stroking the bare skin before pushing me forward over the counter.
“Yes, what, Violet?”
“Yes, please.”
“That’s better.” His warm breath caresses my thighs as his fingers tighten on my ass, splaying me open. I cry out at the sudden crack of his palm against my ass, the sharp sting bleeding into a heady, liquid pleasure. The rush of it steals my breath.
His fingers glide over the burn, soothing, his voice thick with hunger.
“Violet, eyes on me.” I lift my head, locking onto his reflection. The way he’s watching me with pure possession sends another rush of heat between my thighs.
“Now you’re going to come all over my tongue and face like a good girl. Do you understand?”
I nod, my eyes rolling back as I feel the first drag of his tongue along my slit like a flame. Everything else fades. The music outside, the laughter, the entire party—it all ceases to exist. All that’s left is the wet heat of his mouth and his throaty groans of pleasure as he devours me.
I writhe against him shamelessly, lost in the tormenting rhythm—the slow, sensual drags of his tongue that melt into deep, greedy strokes.
His grip tightens as he begins to fuck me with his tongue, plunging it so deep I’m crying out with each pump.
Pushing me to the edge and letting me hang, my body trembling as it seeks relief.
A sudden rattle at the door handle jolts me back to reality, my breath catching as a firm knock follows. Muffled voices filter through the door. “Shoot, it’s locked.” A pause. “Go grab the key from reception.”
“Ignore it,” he growls, his lips brushing against my swollen clit before sealing around it and sucking hard. My body caves, my knees threatening to buckle as white-hot pleasure coils low in my belly, building with each relentless stroke of his tongue.
The voices outside return, more insistent this time, and the jangle of keys sends a wave of panic through me—but I’m past caring. The only thing that matters is the unbearable ache, the pleasure swelling, tightening, spreading like wildfire under my skin.
“That’s it, baby, now fucking come for me, right now,” he rasps, commanding and rough.
A silent scream wrenches from my throat as he hooks a finger over my g-spot, his thumb circling my swollen bud. I tense as the tip of his tongue glides higher, finding the opening in my ass, but then the sensations take over.
Oh my God.
My hips jerk up on instinct, my back arching as a violent tremor takes hold. My vision swims, the edges blurring into nothing, and I shatter, biting into my fist to stifle the cries threatening to spill free.
The click of a key in the lock barely registers, drowned out by the pleasure still pulsing through me. Chase moves fast. My skirt is yanked back down, my straps hastily fixed, and then he’s gone—vanishing into a stall just as the door slides open.
Two women step in, their eyes flicking to me as I grip the sink, splashing cold water onto my flushed face, my breath still coming too fast. My eyes pop when I spot my damn panties still at my feet.
I quickly kick them out of sight and force myself to straighten, securing my mask into place to hide my freshly fucked face.
Keeping my head down, I push past them, slipping out the door.
I don’t know them personally, but I recognize them from HR—the last people on earth you want catching you in a moment like this.
That was way too close.
I almost got caught. And the worst part is—I didn’t even care.
A wave of nausea twists in my gut, the champagne swirling ominously. I run, pushing through the ballroom, past the thrumming music and the sparkling crowd, heading straight for the exit. The moment I hit the street, I throw myself into the first available cab, collapsing against the seat.
I squeeze my eyes shut, pressing my head back against the cool leather, trying to block out the voice inside me, warning me I’m making a mistake, warning me that Chase Knight is going to break me and walk away without a single glance back.