I feel his breath, hot against my neck, and the smell of salt and shampoo. If, for a moment, I was unsure who was with me, mainly because of disorientation and my out of control emotional state, I know now. I lean into him, my heart rate slowing because I no longer have to be terrified, and then speeding up, as I realize his intentions are indecent, that he’s not just putting his arms around me in greeting, he’s serious.
In this stairwell, we can’t hear the music from downstairs, or the babble of the guests. All I can hear is his breathing in my ear. All I can feel are his hands, moving all over me.
We haven’t been together in a week, and just being near him arouses me. I feel my nipples, poking through the thin fabric of my dress. Cruise feels them too. He isn’t in one of his kind moods, and he pinches and pulls, making me moan.
“There are hundreds of people downstairs,” I protest.
“And we are alone right here,” he answers. “For the first time—Maya, I need you. And you nearly had your way with me on the dance floor. I know you need this, too.”
“I don’t need it,” I lie.
“You do. And I love that about you. You’re insatiable.”
Something about that word makes the blood rush through me. If a man like Cruise thinks I’m insatiable, if he says it in that tone, like I’m amazing, then maybe I truly have something to offer him. Maybe what we have is real, and even if it’s just attraction, I can’t deny it.
His hands are on my breasts, caressing me through my dress.
“Come to my room tonight, after the party,” I try.
“What about your promise to my father?”
His teasing touch, through the fabric is nearly all I can take.
“I don’t care about the promise.”
“Then fuck me.” He’s completely serious. But we can’t. Not in this stairwell, where anyone could come along…
“We can’t do this. Not here, not now.”
He laughs, and the sound of it sends chills up and down my spine. “We can. We’re going to. I hope you’re ready.”
I shake my head, feeling a bit of my hair slip from the clips that hold it in place.
“Cruise!” I sound scandalized, and he laughs again.
“After all we’ve done, you can’t quite escape your good girl persona, can you? What are you, an insatiable whore, or an innocent near-virgin?”
“I…I don’t know. I just know we can’t do this here. Please, Cruise, not tonight—”
His hands move from my shoulders, and I nearly lose my footing, because he’s unzipping my dress.
“Oh, Cruise—” I’ve lost the ability to protest. His breath is hot against my collar bone. The dress unzips done to my lower back, and he traces the newly exposed skin with his thumb, stopping to unhook my bra. I can’t breathe. I force myself to take a breath, but then lose the ability to think at all, as he traces the path of the zipper, with the tip of his tongue.
I lean back into him, and he’s slipping my panties down, testing me with his two fingers. If he had any doubt that I was wet enough, his slow intake of breath proves what we both know, that I want him as badly as he wants me. I can feel his erection, pressing against me through the thin soft fabric of his dress pants.
But he doesn’t make a move to fuck me yet. Instead he drives his fingers in, harder, deeper, nearly hostile in his ferocity.
I reach for him, but he won’t let me turn, his hands are on my wrists, holding me captive before him.
One of my hands rests against the bannister, the other supports my weight pushing against the stairs in front of me. Cruise is behind me. I gasp as he slides his fingers out of me, and slides my legs just slightly further apart.
I feel him against me. The barrier of his pants is gone, and I utter a tiny gasp before he’s inside me. From this angle he feels even bigger than usual, and I lunge forward, instinctively trying to escape from the intrusion of his cock. His hands move from my wrists to my hips, holding me in place.
“Oh, god,” I groan. He’s in me, and then sliding out, and then in me again, and now I’m wet enough that I can press against him, encouraging him to continue, instead of pulling away.
My hand makes a fist around the banister, trying to find some leverage, but he’s overwhelmingly big and masculine, and I find myself on my knees, against the stairs, my legs parted as far as the dress will allow.
I’d forgotten. In a weeks time, I’d forgotten how he makes my body come alive. He’s in me, and I can’t imagine ever going for even a day without doing this with him.
“Oh, god,” I groan.
My hair is coming down, falling over my shoulders, and Cruise rams his cock into me, over and over. I bite my lips to keep from screaming, and then pleasure overwhelms both of us, and his arms are around me.
“I love you,” he murmurs. It’s the first time he’s ever said it. Before I can respond, the lights flash on, blinding me.
“What the hell?” Richard Bancroft stands in the corridor, hands on his hips. Cruise and I rush to fix our clothing.
Richard Bancroft is both angry and disappointed. It sends shock waves through me, having my mentor look at me like that. “I can’t believe—” Though I’m glad he didn’t arrive just a few moments before, it has to be obvious, what we were doing.