“Fuck,” he snarled, spinning around and wedging a chair against the handle.
I leaned over the desk, completely aroused by the unexpected and illicit nature of the moment.
He hauled my dress up over my ass, forced my feet apart with his, and plunged inside me: I heard his breath hiss out through his teeth. He pulled out slowly, then pushed back in, making me feel every inch of him.
He angled his body and rolled his hips, making me clutch hold of the edge of the desk. My insides quivered in response, and I could hear his soft grunts as he continued to thrust deeply.
I pushed my hips backwards to meet him and he groaned loudly, picking up the pace and pounding into me, frantically, almost desperate in his desire and need.
I couldn’t take any more – I thought my legs were going to buckle when I came – but he didn’t stop: pounding on and on and on, in a way that would leave bruises across my hip bones from the wooden desk.
I felt his body shudder and empty into me, and his chest rested on my back for a brief moment, before he pulled out. I sank to my knees, and collapsed onto the floor. He lay down next to me, his breath hot on my neck. I twisted around to gaze into his eyes, softly brushing the tips of my fingers over his face.
I didn’t need to ask why he’d fucked me like that, with such desperation: it was an adrenaline rush – the heightened sense of awareness that came from being in a war zone and close to death. It was an intense need to prove that you were still alive, to reaffirm life.
“Fuck, that wasn’t enough, Caro. I want you again.”
“We can’t, Sebastian,” I panted. “As it is, we’ll be missed if we don’t hurry.”
He frowned unhappily and tugged my limp hand to his lips, sucking my fingers, one by one.
“I need you, Caro. Let me come to your room tonight, please, baby.”
“You can’t: I’m sharing with Liz.”
“Get rid of her!” he whispered, persuasively into my ear.
Suddenly someone rattled the door handle, and I could hear men’s voices outside.
“Fuck it,” he hissed, tucking himself in quickly.
“My panties,” I said, feeling panicky.
Sebastian grinned at me, and searched around until he found them hanging disconsolately from a handle on the desk drawer.
“I think these are yours, ma’am.”
“Thank you,” I said, hurriedly pulling them on and straightening my skirt.
The door handle rattled again, and I held my breath, but the voices receded into the distance, arguing with each other.
Sebastian helped me up, and listened intently at the door. He hesitated, glancing back at me, then opened it cautiously.
“You’re good,” he said, quietly, his eyes searching the corridor in both directions.
I raised an eyebrow. “You’re not so bad yourself, Chief.”
He grinned wickedly. “Later?”
But then we heard more voices coming towards us; I smiled once, and hurried away.
He let me go first, and I made my way into the reception area, where people who’d been invited to the dinner were circulating.
I was concentrating on calming my breathing when I heard someone say my name.
“Hello, Caroline.”
I recognized that voice. And only one person called me ‘Caroline’.
A cold shiver ran down my spine, and I turned slowly.
My ex-husband stood in front of me, a stiff smile on his face. He looked handsome, in a silver fox sort of way.
“Hello, David,” I said warily, as feelings of dislike and distrust swept over me.
“I heard you were here tonight: the famous war correspondent ‘Lee Venzi’, as you’re known now.”
I listened out for the sarcasm in his words, but I wasn’t certain I could hear any. How odd.
“I see you’ve been promoted, Captain Wilson,” I replied, keeping my voice neutral. “Congratulations, David.”
He looked pleased and surprised. “Thank you.”