39. Margo
Chapter 39
Margo
W e’re dancing. I don’t think we’ve stopped dancing.
It’s an excuse to touch Caleb. And to feel his hands on my bare back. Each tiny stroke of his thumb under the edge of my dress, inching closer to my ass, sends sparks through me. It’s dangerous and dirty, and I desperately want him to take me upstairs already.
Tonight has been an exercise in ignoring Amelie and Ian, who always seem to be in the corner of my eye. She came in with a gorgeous black mask that has feathers and jewels, and a tight, tight red dress. Ian matches her: red mask, black-and-red suit.
I wonder if anyone’s compared her to the Queen of Hearts. Off with their heads!
Luckily, Amelie doesn’t have that much power.
Savannah brought a new boy to the dance. His mask obscures too much of his face, but people are whispering. This student body loves to gossip about anyone and everyone.
The slow song ends, and I step away from Caleb.
“Thirsty?” he asks.
I nod, searching for Riley. After a moment, I find her and point. “I’ll be over there.”
He grins. There’s a spot of red lipstick on his lip, and I start to rub it off for him.
He stops me. “Leave it. I like your mark on me.”
Of course he does.
Halfway to Riley’s table, a girl approaches. She grabs my arm and pulls me out of a side door, into a brightly lit hallway. It’s quite the change from the dark ballroom.
“Hey! Let go of me.”
She lifts her mask.
Claire .
“What are you doing here?” I gasp.
She huffs. “Nice seeing you, too, sis.”
“Sorry. I just wasn’t expecting you to crash the party.”
“Yeah, well, I wasn’t expecting you to ignore my phone calls.”
“I’m not. I haven’t got any from you.”
She scowls.
“Seriously. I’d prove it, but my phone is in Caleb’s jacket…”
“I have something important to tell you, Margo.” She takes both of my hands in hers. “I need you to listen to me.”
I focus. “Okay, okay.”
It must be bad if Claire is willing to travel all the way to Rose Hill to tell me something. Bad or good, but my bet is on the former. And as I think that, that Halloween-induced anxiety flutters in my chest.
“I was worried about you,” she said. “And you know how we met your foster mom the other day?”
Last week, at the mall. How could I forget?
My face answers for me.
Claire sighs. “She was familiar—but like, in an ‘I have a bad feeling about this’ kind of way. You know those moments where you just want to follow your gut?”
“I… guess.” I don’t like where this is going.
“Remember when we lived together, and you found my stash?”
Of newspaper clippings. Yes.
Her parents died in a car accident, and for a while, she was obsessed with other kids who lost parents in accidents. If there was a newspaper write-up about it, you could bet that Claire had it cut out and pressed into a notebook.
“Some of them had pictures, you know? Like of the family mourning or raising awareness.
“Okay, and?”
“Your foster mom seemed familiar.”
I don’t love where this is going. “You said the same freaking thing about Caleb,” I point out.
“He still is familiar,” she mutters. “But that’s not what we’re talking about right now. The point is: I figured out your foster mom!”
I squint at her. It takes a moment to dislodge her grip, and I untie my mask. I take it off. “You recognize her from… your newspaper clippings?”
“Yes! Her daughter died in a crash like, five years ago. There was a picture of her and her husband at the grave site.”
“That’s awful, Claire. And, for the record, I knew she died.”
“No, but look.” She pulls a paper from her pocket, shoving it into my hand. “Just read that!”
“Margo?”
I spin around, crumpling the paper in my fist. Caleb walks toward us, gaze bouncing back and forth between Claire and me.
“Are you a friend of Margo’s?” he asks Claire.
I glance back at her, but her mask is back in place. She takes a few steps backward, shrugging. “See ya later, Wolfe.”
Weird. She’s always been kind of skittish around people, though.
“You good?” he asks.
“Yep.” My dress has small pockets. They aren’t big enough for a phone, but definitely for a scrap of paper. I tuck it in and retie my mask.
Caleb hands me a cup of punch, and we go join Riley and Eli.
Claire’s warning is swept away in the excitement of the rest of the evening. Eventually, Caleb’s hand on my back is too much for me to bear. The room is slowly emptying out, and I find myself leaning on him more and more.
We’ve done our part. We showed up, we danced, we were seen and admired. The last two things were just what I figured Caleb wanted. We talked with Theo and Liam, who both opted to come alone.
At one point, Theo stole Amelie away from Ian and whisked her around in a proper waltz. The fact that they both knew more than how to just sway was impressive. I didn’t figure him as the type to fall for her charm, though.
Caleb chuckled at my expression. “He’s using Amelie.”
“For what?”
He just shakes his head.
Now, I lean against Caleb and try to telepathically tell him that it’s okay to leave.
“Tired?” he asks.
I nod, emphatic.
He tuts and leans down. “Poor thing. I thought our night was just getting started…”
His words undo me.
I press my thighs together, turning so my lips brush his ear. “Tired of being surrounded by people,” I clarify.
He smirks. “If you insist.”
He takes my hand, lacing our fingers, and tugs me up. I come closer to his height in my heels, but he still manages to feel… bigger. Infinitely more imposing.
“We’re out,” Caleb says, slapping Eli’s hand. “See you tomorrow.”
We say goodbye to Theo and Liam, too. The latter has found a girl, and he keeps her in his lap as we walk by.
The music is much fainter in the lobby. He hands me my clutch and withdraws a keycard.
Our bags should already be in the room. This morning, Riley and I tossed our overnight bags in Caleb’s trunk. We all figured it was easier to explain it away than have Lenora and Robert ask me a million questions.
The elevator ride is quick, shared with another couple, and Caleb and I keep eyeing each other. Once we’re in the hallway, he takes my hand. We stop in front of a door, which he unlocks, and he quickly scoops me up. I throw my arms around his neck, suppressing a yelp, and he carries me over the threshold.
“Cute,” I say.
He just smiles.
He doesn’t set me down. He walks down the hall and into the room. But it isn’t just a room. It’s a whole freaking suite. There’s a living and dining room, complete with a giant oak table. A door with locks on it on the right, which I assume means it can connect with another suite, and the bedroom and bathroom on the left.
There’s a giant vase filled with flowers on the table.
“Wow.”
He shifts, lifting me higher. “It’s worth it.”
“Bedroom?”
“As you wish.” He strides toward the bedroom and places me on my feet.
I have a second to get my balance before he’s on me, pushing me against the wall. I arch into him as his lips meet mine. He teases me with the barest brush.
“Remember what I said?” he asks.
“Yes,” I breathe. He’s going to fuck me senseless.
His hands slide up my legs, inching up the hem my dress. Slowly, he drags my panties down. He kneels, keeping a hand on my hip while I step out of them. He grasps one of my ankles and puts it over his shoulder.
God, I’m wet from just thinking about what he’s going to do to me.
“Hold on tight,” he warns, then he leans forward and puts his lips on me. He sucks on my clit, hard.
I buck, trying to get away.
It—it hurts .
My hands grip the skirt of my dress. I wriggle at the feel of his teeth on me, but he just bites my inner thigh.
I moan. The back of my head hits the wall.
He pulls away, groaning, and suddenly I’m in the air. I hold on to his shoulders while he carries me to the bed, tossing me on it and following.
I swallow, moving backward.
“You like it when I hurt you.” He pushes my dress up again. “You’re going to come with my tongue inside you.”
My shoulder blades hit the headboard.
He goes back down on me, his tongue sliding through my folds. My back comes off the bed, pleasure spreading through me. The bite on my thigh pulses. He thrusts his tongue into me.
“You’re wicked,” I whimper.
He trades his tongue for fingers, and his mouth goes back to my clit, biting and sucking.
It doesn’t take long for the sensation to build and build and build.
He thrusts into me with his tongue again, fucking me with his mouth just like he said he would.
I shatter, moaning his name. It’s unbearable.
There’s a gleam in his eye.
He’s not finished.
I collapse back as two fingers slide into me, hitting my G-spot with deadly accuracy. I can’t control my hips, which begin to rock into him. My eyes close, and I lose track of where he is.
That’s my mistake.
He thrusts in another finger, spreading me wider, and licks my clit. It’s so fucking slow, every stroke makes me tremble.
“Caleb,” I groan, trying to push his head away. It’s too much. My legs tingle.
“Give it to me,” he growls.
His finger, wet from being inside me, slips back, teasing my asshole. He enters at the same time that he slides his tongue into me.
The sensation is overwhelming. Another orgasm crashes over me, and my legs shake. I keep coming.
“Oh my God.”
He just stuck his finger in my…
He smirks. “You can call me that, if you want.”
“Ass.” I’m panting. I’m pretty sure I can’t move.
“Wasn’t that worth waiting for?”
Who would’ve thought two weeks was a long time to go without sex? And not just sex—any orgasms. My stomach is still bruised, but it doesn’t hurt much anymore. The limited activity order did wonders.
“Yes,” I manage.
He gets up and hauls me up, too. “Keep your dress on… lose everything else.”
I gulp.
More?
While he’s out of the room, I unbuckle my heels, more than happy to be rid of them.
Caleb comes out of the bathroom.
I go in and pee, then contemplate taking down my hair. It’s a little messy from the dancing and what just happened. Still, it’s not a bad look. I analyze the rest of my body, lifting the dress to examine my skin. My stomach’s bruises are yellow and green, with some spots still light purple or red.
I’ve had Ian’s bite mark on my wrist covered with makeup. The scratches on my arm have healed, except for a few deeper gouges that scabbed over.
In another few weeks, I’ll be whole again.
Caleb opens the door, meeting my eyes in the mirror. He’s naked. I drop my dress, letting it fall back down around my thighs.
He comes and stands behind me, touching his mark on my breast. It’s covered by the dress, but he knows exactly where it is. His hand glides down my arm, closing over my bracelet. He wears his on the same arm.
“I’m really fucking glad you decided to wear your own version of a crown.” He kisses my neck.
I tip my head to the side. I guess I didn’t think about that implication. But the more I think about it, the more… I like it .
He peppers kisses down my shoulder, lifting my arm. His lips hover over the bracelet.
“Did you mean it?”
I shake my head. “Did I mean what?”
“That you wanted to marry me. When we were nine.”
“We were eight,” I murmur. “And yes, I did mean it. As much as I could’ve at eight years old.”
Our eyes collide in the mirror again, and this time…
I avoid it. I scoot past him and grab a bottle of water from the mini fridge in the living room. My dress swishes around my legs, and I focus on that when I cross to the windows. We’re high enough that there’s no chance of anyone spying us.
Top floor.
Caleb’s reflection appears behind me again. He takes the water bottle and sets it aside, then uses his foot to widen my stance. Slowly, he bends me forward. I automatically put my hands on the window to keep my balance.
He flips the skirt of my dress up and pushes into me without a word.
I bite my lip, trapping my whimper behind my teeth.
Two can play that game.
There’s always a game between us.
He thrusts faster, stoking something hot between us. His hand reaches around me, and his fingers find my clit again.
It’s sore. Everything is sore.
I bite my lip harder. He can’t win this, too.
I push back to meet his pace. His finger on my clit, rubbing fast little circles, is insistent.
His other hand slides into my hair, keeping my head up. I see us in the reflection, my whole body moving with every slam. And beyond us, a city that couldn’t give a damn. Students filter out below us.
He changes angles, rolling his hips, and I can’t take it anymore. I let out a whimper.
His hand moves from my hair to around my neck. He pulls me so I’m almost upright, then growls and picks up the pace. “So. Fucking. Perfect.”
“I can’t,” I pant.
“Fuck,” he growls, biting my shoulder. “Scream, Margo.”
I do. I tip my head back and scream his name, abandoning all self-control. My legs tremble while the orgasm rolls through me. I squeeze my eyes shut.
He slams into me at a whole new angle, grunting into my neck. He jerks forward, burying himself all the way inside me, and comes with a hiss of breath.
We stand like that for a long moment. Eyes closed.
I’m so tired I can barely move.
He pulls out and takes off a condom I didn’t notice him put on.
Slowly, I sink to my knees.
Caleb returns and comes over to me. He undoes the zipper of my dress, and it puddles on the floor around my legs. He lifts me out of it and pauses, staring at my breasts. “You have stickers on your nipples.”
Oh, shit.
A laugh bursts out of me, as tired as I am, and peel them off. They hurt like a bitch, and Caleb can’t hide his fascination.
When they’re off, crumpled in a ball and tossed in the trash, he hooks his arm around my waist.
“A nap, then maybe we’ll try this again,” he says.
“Great,” I mumble. “I can barely keep my eyes open.”
He tucks us into bed and turns off the light. We’re still naked—a fact he takes advantage of with his wandering hand. I press closer to him, raising my head.
“Kiss me,” I say.
He places a soft kiss on my lips. It’s exactly what I need.
I exhale, wrapping my arms around him, and within seconds, I’m out.