#55
"Can I go where you go? Can we always be this close, forever and ever? And ah, take me out, and take me home” Taylor Swift
I stepped out of the discarded layers of white tulle, my movements deliberate.
I leaned down to adjust my stockings, ensuring the lace of the garter belt sat perfectly against my skin, all while I felt Kelsey’s gaze burning into me.
Her eyes were trapped, unable to rise above the swell of my breasts and the line of my thighs.
When I reached her, I took her chin in my hand, tilting her face up to mine. I bit her lower lip just hard enough to draw a gasp, and when she reached out to claim me, I caught her wrists, pinning them back with a slow shake of my head. Not yet.
"Damn..." she rasped, her voice breaking.
I moved to the center of the plush carpet and knelt. I lowered my head, tucking my arms behind my back in a silent, familiar gesture of submission. The library felt like a sanctuary of shadows. Kelsey reached out, her hand a steadying weight as she helped me rise.
She sank into the heavy mahogany armchair and pulled me toward her by the hips, her touch possessive and urgent. With practiced, calm hands, she unhooked the sides of my garter belt and slid my panties down, careful not to disturb the line of my stockings.
"Hmm," I hummed, the vibration of my own voice echoing the spark of her touch. She offered a dark, knowing smile.
"Step here." She swatted my thigh lightly.
As I reached down to unbuckle my heel, she stopped me with a look.
I stepped onto her thigh instead, the sharp heel sinking into the fabric of her suit.
A low moan escaped her as she felt the pressure, her mouth finding the sensitive skin of my inner thigh.
"I shouldn't do this..." she whispered against my skin. "You’re the most dangerous kind of addiction, Megan. If I taste you again, I’m never going to be able to let go."
She rested her forehead against my knee, her eyes looking up at me with a mixture of worship and despair.
"Don't think about 'later,'" I commanded, my voice trembling. "I need to kill this withdrawal, Kelsey. Just one last time."
"I’ll be there," Kelsey whispered, her voice a jagged promise against my skin. "I’ll be there the day you can finally be mine."
It was the last thing she said before her fingers traced the line of my lips, and every rational thought I had left dissipated into the shadows of the library.
My moan was slow, a sly and broken sound; she remembered exactly how to unravel me. When she penetrated me with a single finger, I stared down at her, my gaze locked onto hers. Her breath was so close, so hot against my skin, that it felt as though she could make me come through proximity alone.
"Please..." I sighed, my fingers tangling in her hair, refusing to look away.
Finally, her mouth took me. The touch of her tongue was surgical in its perfection. She moved with a rhythmic, devastating grace across my vulva, claiming me with a possessiveness that made my knees tremble. She let out a muffled curse against my skin, never breaking the contact.
I pressed her closer, my breath hitching as she added another finger. I felt a sharp, delicious tightness as a reminder of the months of emptiness. Kelsey focused her attention on my clitoris, her tongue flickering with a relentless pace while her fingers drove deeper, anchoring me to the moment.
I writhed against her, grinding my hips into the heat of her mouth and the pressure of her hand. I held her head captive against me, seeking every ounce of the friction I had craved for eighteen months, until the world finally splintered.
I sank into the afterglow, my muscles twitching with the ghost of the pleasure she’d just given me.
Kelsey lingered for a moment, her lips trailing over my skin before she finally climbed up, her mouth glistening.
I reached out, my index finger catching a stray drop at the corner of her lips, and brought it to my own. A communion of sorts.
"I'll see you when you get elected," she whispered, her voice a low, steady vow.
"I'll try not to be mad at you anymore," I replied, a small, tired smile flickering on my face.
She took my chin in her hand, pulling me into a kiss that felt more like a sealing of a contract than a goodbye. It was deep, silent, and final.
As soon as the door clicked shut behind her, the silence of the library rushed back in. I moved with practiced, numb efficiency. I stepped back into the clouds of tulle, pulling the white dress up and fastening the buttons that Kelsey had just undone.
I stood before the mirror, smoothing my hair and adjusting the floral headpiece until every stray strand was back in its place.
I looked at the woman in the reflection—the bride, the judicial success, the untouchable figure the capital expected. She looked perfect. She looked untouched. Only I knew that beneath the silk and lace, my skin was still burning from the touch of the woman I was supposed to have forgotten.