Chapter 18
“I feel like the color blue. You're packing up your stuff and talking like it's tough. And trying to tell me that it's time to go” Aerosmith
As I feel the water hitting my back, I’m half-convinced I’m dreaming—that at any second, Vanessa will throw open the curtains and tell me I’m late. It’s a teenage obsession, this craving for her.
But it’s also the fulfillment of a goddamn fantasy to have that asshole’s daughter in my bed, moaning my name. I thought having her once would be enough to scratch the itch, but I was dead wrong.
She’s like a drink in the hand of an alcoholic, a line of coke in front of an addict. The scent, the feeling of possession, the taste of her lips. Everything about Megan was designed to be an addiction, a pit of temptation I’d throw myself into without a second thought.
After my shower, dressed in the same top and pants from the night before, I open the door to the bedroom. Megan is lying face-down, her pale skin marked with bright red traces of the night we just shared. Only the curve of her backside is shielded by the white sheets.
She pulls on a hotel robe while we eat breakfast, chatting about the morning news as if we do this every day. At one point, she climbs onto my lap, and we keep talking. I’m actually enjoying this.
“During this trip, I'm stopping in Amsterdam. I'll be calling you,” I say, running my hands over her face before pulling her into a kiss. She smiles, and I can feel my own eyes lighting up. “I think I’m addicted to you.”
“Hmm. Tell me more about this addiction.” Our noses brush, and she tucks a stray lock of hair behind my ear.
“You have a beautiful smile. It’s incredible just talking to you...” I kiss her between every word. “Your body is a point of no return. I used to think you were just the ultimate conquest.”
“Am I just a goal to be reached?” She stares at me, her brow furrowing.
“You’re charming, brilliant, and fiercely independent. You’re not a goal, Megan. You’re a woman I want by my side. A woman who, incidentally, still hasn't answered my question.”
“Is there some hidden rule?” I make air quotes, and she smiles. “Only being with you when you're physically here?”
“None. I have no desire to control your life, Megan. If you ever feel the need to, I don't know, get married again, I’ll support you.”
“That works for me. So, what are you doing in Amsterdam?”
“Taking classes.”
“You don't look like someone who still needs a classroom, Kels.” She runs her hand up my thigh, her palm grazing the side of my hip as if she’s as addicted to my skin as I am to hers.
“Domination classes, Kitty. I’m learning the finer points of control.”
“Like Fifty Shades? That movie was garbage, Kelsey!” She laughs, hiding her face in the crook of my neck.
“That shouldn't even be a benchmark. But yes, it’s about BDSM. If I recall, you quite enjoyed 'relaxing' last night. You also seemed to enjoy it when I squeezed your nipple at the gym. It took some work to get you to surrender, but I get it.”
I bite her chin and trail kisses along her jawline. “You’re a judge; you control people's fates. Why wouldn't you want to control how you’re fucked? But just between us...”
“I’m still waiting to see where you're going with this. Go on...” She arches an eyebrow.
“I’m asking you to try and relax more. In bed, I’m the one in charge. You obey. Do you understand?”
“I’m not sure I do, but I promise to practice.” Her phone vibrates, and her expression shifts instantly from peaceful to irritated.
“We’ll practice, even from a distance. But you have to trust me.” I tap my thigh twice. “I have to head out, and I know you have a meeting. I’ll see you in DC. In the meantime... do your research.”
I hold her chin, sealing our lips together one last time.
“See you there. Thanks for last night,” she says.
“You’re delicious, Meg.” I pull on my shirt and move back to her, sliding my hands inside her robe to caress her waist.
I can’t help but make eye contact as my hands move up to her breasts. Her nipples are already erect, and she lets out a low moan when I squeeze them. “I want to taste you again.”
The phone rings incessantly. Megan reaches for it, but my hands are already wandering. I bite my lip and bring an index finger to my mouth, a command for silence, as she puts the phone to her ear.
My hand goes straight between her legs, finding her already slick and ready. I start making slow, circular movements over her clitoris. I recognize the voice on the other end; it’s the leader of the Democratic Party.
She says his name twice, trying to stay professional, but I’m focused on her neck, biting softly before I penetrate her with my fingers without warning. Megan curses me silently, taking a jagged breath and grinding against my hand as I move inside her.
The second she hangs up, she swings her hand and delivers a sharp, open-palmed slap to my face. She grabs my hair, forcing me to look at her.
Without a word, I shove her against the nearest wall and start thrusting hard, feeling her nails rake across my back. Megan hooks a leg around my waist, her hand sliding to my throat, scratching me mercilessly.
My movements are fast and precise; hers are desperate for the friction until our mouths collide. She grabs my hair again, a wicked smile spreading as she moans, never breaking eye contact.
“You’re a bitch, moaning like that,” I growl, increasing the pressure. She nods, lost in it. “Whose bitch are you, Your Honor?”
She reaches out and slaps me again. I feel the heat blooming on my cheek, and it only makes me want to drive into her harder. “Tell me, Your Honor. Who’s going to rule this hot pussy?”
I was moaning just as loud as she was. Her nails were definitely drawing blood now.
“You... you, damn it.”
“And what am I to you?” I push deep until she cries out, pulling me closer, begging for more speed.
“My mistress. Mine.”
“And you’re my bitch. Only mine.” I thrust with a violence that’s rough for a second encounter, but she collapses against my hand, licking my neck with raw lust.
We stand there, panting, and I hold my hand out for her to suck the moisture from each of my fingers. Our breathing is jagged. She finally reaches out to straighten my shirt.
“You have to go, right?” she asks.
“Vanessa is around. If you need anything, find her.” I turn the knob, steal one last kiss, and smile. That smile of hers... it completely unbalances me.
I walk out into the suite and find Vanessa pacing while on a call. I sweep her up by the waist, lifting her off her feet and kissing her cheek.
“Yes, Richard, she just walked in. I’m sure she’ll review the proposals as soon as she boards.” Vanessa sighs, running a hand through her hair. She holds my chin and gives me a mocking look. “Right. The board meeting sounds great. Talk soon.”
I roll my eyes. I can't believe she's talking to that asshole this early.
“Don't you dare ruin my mood,” I say, pulling off my shirt as I head toward the bedroom. “What does that prick want?”
“The same thing I want: for you to review the pre-approved projects. As much as I love you, Kels, I’d rather you actually knew what was in these files.”
“I’ll do it on the flight. Did you put a tail on Megan’s ex?”
Vanessa nods, glancing at her phone. “We’re on it. Keep an eye on him. It took me too long to get this woman; I'm not letting her fall back into his trap.”
“Nothing suspicious yet. Men like him don't ask for divorces, Peanut, they play the victim. And right now, he’s playing the role perfectly.”
Vanessa points to my bags. I have one meeting before the jet takes off. “Is this because you're afraid of the snow?” I ask.
“No, this is because a storm is coming and I want you in the air before it hits.”
We say goodbye quickly. Before I even reach the runway, I’m sending a message to Megan, smiling like an idiot because of a redhead whose scent is now burned into my skin.