‘Show me how good you are,’ she replies.
“The glimmering magic of the fabric and her powerful incantation create a force field of invisibility around us, so I don’t rush but take my time, paying attention to her responses until an involuntary little gasp tells me that yes, with that particular angle of her hips and mine, I’m stroking her sweet spot. Everything tightens a little, her arms around me, the muscles of her back and bottom under my forearm. Sweet heat drips down my spine to pool in my pelvis. I keep my rhythm slow and steady, sinking into the golden light and the magic spell she weaves. Her leg wraps around my calf, pulling me off-balance. I widen my stance, and her fingers dig into my shoulders through my jacket and tuxedo shirt. Right now she doesn’t give a damn about what I say, so I reassure her with movement: steady, deep, and now a bit of a snap to my hips. This time the gasp is a cry until she smothers her mouth in my jacket. She’s trembling, quivering, so close, so close, but it’s easy to fight the heat in my balls until, with one sharp cry, she comes.
“It’s magic all right, fucking magic, holding a woman through a full-body orgasm. I wait until she’s done, weight resting more heavily on my arm, before she let go. Looking down at the curve of her breasts pressing against that glimmering fabric pulls me over the edge. I don’t mean to shove her against the bookshelves when I bury myself inside her, but she gives a soft, surprised, not altogether displeased huff of air when I do.
“My heart’s still pounding and her face is still buried in my shoulder when a sharp knock comes at the door. Neither of us wastes any time looking at each other, or the door. I pull out. She spins around. Cock still hanging from my unzipped pants, I zip her dress. She shoves the skirt down, and I bend down, pluck her panties from the floor, and stuff them into my jacket pocket as I sit down behind the desk and lean back with my hands locked behind my head to study the ceiling.
“It’s the best I can do. When I look up, Daria’s perusing the book from the shelf like nothing happened. She’s a better actor than I am. At the second round of knocks she crosses the library floor at a measured pace and unlocks the door.
‘Yes?’
“Jack Castilanio peers around the open door. ‘Uh, sorry,’ he says. ‘It was locked.’
“Daria lifts her eyebrows. ‘Was it?’ she asks, all bewildered innocence. ‘Did you lock the door, Ryan?’
“I shake my head and smile at Jack.
“Daria’s not giving any ground to Jack, but Jack’s not backing away, either, and when a blond head belonging to one of the hired ‘entertainers’ peers into the gap, I understand why he wanted the room. No one says anything, and Jack retreats with a muttered apology.
“She closes the door. I remove the condom, bundle it in a bunch of tissues plucked from the box on the desk, and chuck it in the walnut trash basket under the desk. ‘I guarantee Charles doesn’t empty his own trash,’ I explain to Daria as I zip up.
“Her smile swings between amused and bland as she straightens my shirt and cummerbund, but when she’s done, it’s completely dialed to bland. I open my mouth to say something, although I’m not sure what because we both know what this was, but the door swings open without a knock. It’s yet another second-year associate with yet another ‘entertainer.’
“‘Do you think he’d mind if I borrowed this?’ Daria says, glancing at the book’s spine, then at me.
“Her improv skills impress me. ‘Not at all,’ I say, the very picture of magnanimity. It’s a Greek tragedy, bound in leather, probably bought by the yard from a seller specializing in old books.
“I clear a path for her through the party that’s spiraling out of control. She drops my hand when we reach the elevator bank, and we ride to the lobby in silence. ‘Good night,’ she says when we stand in the summer’s sultry air.
“I kiss her cheek and hail a cab for her. Only when the cab’s number light switches off do I remember I’ve still got her panties in my pocket.”
Chapter Five