Chapter 39 I Want Them To Watch... And Know You're Mine
Frantically shaking my head no, I lean forward to kiss him, a new kind of urgency this time, as though I am working against a clock, needing it to be finished as quickly as possible. Ideally before the guys notice.
He tugs my underwear to the side, his fingers sliding into place, running over my wetness, and pushing inside me with no more hesitation.
“Fuck...” I whisper against his lips, separating from the kiss just enough to catch the moan that wants so desperately to tumble from my throat.
The hand in my hair drops slightly, his fist resting at the back of my neck, a tension in his muscles that holds me in place as he starts to move.
“You are so fucking gorgeous.” He mutters, his fingers starting to move faster, making my mouth drop open, my breaths coming out as short pants as he just stares up at me. “Sitting in my club, taking my fingers so well, Doll.” His lips return to my neck, kissing me like he has been aching to taste my skin. “Always just so ready for me, so wet, so needy...”
“David,” I moan lightly, the buzz of the alcohol being overpowered by the adrenaline of him finger-fucking me, half in public, his words fuelling a carnal desire that is flooding through my veins.
A distinct curl in his fingers makes him brush over the spot inside me that always causes my eyes to roll back, makes me arch into him, hips rolling closer, but his hold against my neck tightens, stopping me from moving too much as he does the same movement again, and again.
Biting my bottom lip, I force my eyes open, looking down at him, seeing him staring back at me in awe. Half of me wishes I’m not in his booth. That I am at home. That I can be doing this with a lot less clothes. He is right, I am needy, and in the back of my mind, I know he isn’t going to let me go all the way tonight, so I need to take all that he is willing to give.
That thought sobers me up just enough to realise the extent of what is happening. As I rock my hips in tandem with his fingers, I lick my lips, ready to ask...
“Why… here?” I question. It makes him pause. For a second. A brief second.
“You worried about being seen, Doll?” He asks, his teeth catching his bottom lip, his fingers stroking me slowly as he waits for my answer.
“No,” I shake my head. “But… your answers, the form,” I gasp as he pushes deeper. “You said you didn’t want anyone seeing… doing this…” I struggle to get my sentence out coherently, but from the smile forming on his lips, he understands what I am trying to say.
His lips trail over my collarbone, my chest, before he looks back up at me and brings me down closer to him, pressing his forehead against mine as I rock against him, keeping to the rhythm of his fingers.
“I know what I said back then. But I think,” He pauses to let go of my hair, to slide his hand round my neck and down my chest, stopping where the material of my dress lies across my skin. “I’m starting to like the idea of other people seeing, knowing that they can’t do a damn thing about it.”
“What… fuck,” I breathe, my head rolling back slightly as I feel the pull in my abdomen starting to build. “What changed?”
“What changed, is that I realised you’re a fucking masterpiece, Nora.” He growls, and I pull my head back up to look down at him, my gasps becoming more frequent as the heat rolls through my body.
“David…”
“And I want them to watch, and know that you’re mine.”
“Thought I wasn’t yours until we slept together?” I tease, a flash of arrogance spearing through me, which he doesn’t like one bit. His hand circles the front of my neck, making me clench around his fingers, his eyes narrowing.
“Let’s be honest here,” He spits. “You’ve been mine for months.”
The next moan that comes out of my mouth is ungodly, and it takes everything in my power not to succumb to a melted puddle when he ends his sentence with the crashing of his lips to mine. My fingers tense where I am gripping his shoulders, and his fingers speed up, slamming into me hard, and fast, curling at the ends, trying desperately to drag the orgasm out of me, silencing any more of my noises with his tongue tangling with mine.
I hold on for dear life as he fucks me to the edge, through the climax, and over the cliff, freefalling into the euphoria that takes over my body, while all I can do is gasp into his mouth, and let it all happen.
Moving his mouth from mine so that I can breathe, his kisses start to litter my neck as he waits for me to relax in his arms, his fingers moving slowly inside me, gently coaxing me down from my high. I take my hands off his shoulders, putting them on his jaw instead, pulling his face back up to mine so that I can kiss him again. Slowly, and deeply.
He slides his fingers out while we kiss, both of his hands sliding around my hips, my waist, across my back, anchoring my body to his possessively.
When we finally reluctantly separate, I have a giant smile on my face.
“That was nice.” I hum.
“Nice?” He laughs.
“I mean… shut up.” I laugh back. I feel his hands start to slide off of me.
“Come on, let’s get you home.”
“Oh?” I ask, my eyebrows raising, as we both start shifting off the seat. “Home as in…”
“Nora.” He warns, taking my hand and already pulling me out of the booth, whispering something to Harlan as we pass them. I chuckle to myself, knowing he wouldn’t have agreed to having sex tonight anyway.
But hey, can’t blame a girl for trying, can you?
I wake up the next morning in my bed. My own bed, in David’s apartment, alone. Just like every other day since he first brought me here. This morning though, I have a bit of a headache.
While the glass of water that David makes me drink, and my.. ahem, activities in the booth have sobered me up some, it seems that they aren’t magical cures for the 6 or 7 drinks I’d had beforehand.
Throwing the covers off me, and momentarily pausing as I take in my outfit, I shake my head and start walking to the kitchen. I don’t remember changing into my pyjamas, but then I also don’t really remember the drive home. And if it is David that changed me, well, he’s seen it all before anyway.
I don’t notice it at first, not until my coffee cup is full, and I take my first sip.
The thing is – the apartment is quiet.
Too quiet.
I slowly step to the kitchen doorway, peering out into the hallway, looking left and right, but there is nothing. No sounds, no humans, no noise at all.
Even when David has to go somewhere, he usually leaves Marcus here. Sometimes Theo. So why do I suddenly get the feeling that I am completely alone?
Trying not to think about it too much, I walk through the apartment, my bare feet padding lightly on the wooden floorboards, checking in every room I pass, knocking on the doors that are closed. When I’ve checked the last room, which is David’s bedroom, seeing it empty, with the bed made, is when I start to worry.
I go back to my room, close the door behind me, and put my coffee on the dresser, before going to the bedside table and picking up my phone.
Marcus is the first number I call.
The nervousness inside me worsens when it goes straight to voicemail. Chewing my lip, I go through my contacts, but can’t see Theo or Harlan’s number saved. I didn’t think I’d ever been in a situation where I'd ask them for it, so that’s maybe my fault.
I hover my thumb over David’s name. It isn’t odd that he isn’t here. The thing that is odd, is that no one else is here for him.
I decide to try something else before calling David.
I call Selena.
At least her phone is ringing, I think, as I start to pace the room.
“Hmm?” Comes a noise on the other end, and I feel relief wash over me.
At least there isn’t some kind of mass kidnapping happening.
“Selena?! Thank god. Are you alive?”
“Mostly.” She groans, and I know I’ve woken her up. “What is it?”
“Umm… this is gonna sound weird. But when Marcus dropped you home last night, was there… like did he say anything about today?”
“Uh…” I hear shuffling. “Marcus?”
“Yeah, Marcus. The huge beautiful blond guy you’ve been flirting with for weeks?” I roll my eyes. Tired Selena is already a piece of work. Hungover Selena is like dealing with a child. “So when he dropped you home did–”
“He uhh… he didn’t drop me home.” She whispers, and I hear more shuffling on her side of the phone, like she is moving out of her room.
“I’m sorry what? He didn’t take you home? Then how did you–”
“No, um… he did take me home. He just didn’t drop me home.”
I blink for a few seconds, trying to understand what she's saying. Maybe it is my own headache lightly pounding behind my eyes, but it sounds like she just said the same thing twice.
“I don’t get it. If he didn’t drop you home then what–” I stop talking when I hear her groan again, but this one sounds more like a groan at me, like she is frustrated.
“Nora,” She breathes. “He didn’t drop me home.”
“Yes you said that but then–” I cut myself off. My eyes widen. “OH!”