A woman stepped into the bathroom and approached the sink. She caught sight of us in the mirror and quickly left.
Preston walked over to the door and locked it. Then he walked toward me, making me step back until my ass was pressed against the towel rack.
He looked down at my dress and pressed his forehead against mine. “I know why you’re upset with me, Tara.”
“I told you not to call me that anymore.”
“You wanted me to tell you how fucking sexy you look tonight?” He trailed his finger against my collarbone, setting my nerves on fire. “How I would’ve preferred that we stayed at your place, so we could finish what we started in the boardroom instead of coming here?”
“No.”
“Yes.” He brushed his lips against mine. “I knew you wouldn’t go for that—even though you know damn well you want to. I’m sure you still have no idea how hard it is to deal with wanting a certain someone for over two years.”
“I’ve wanted a certain someone to treat me right for over two years,” I hissed. “Trust me, you have no idea how hard it is to deal with that.”
“For the record, he’s never hated you.”
“Too bad I’ll never be able to say the same.”
“I thought we said we were going to be honest with each other during these last few weeks?”
“I am honest.”
His hand slipped between my legs, and he slid his hand against my pussy. “This doesn’t feel like you hate me at all.”
“That doesn’t mean anything. It’s beyond hate at this point.”
He narrowed his eyes at me and bit my bottom lip. “Prove it.”
He pressed his lips against mine and my lie lasted all of two seconds, as I couldn’t help but give in. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I moaned as he slid his hands up the back of my dress.
Kissing me recklessly, his eyes remained locked on mine, and he didn’t give me a chance to direct the tempo at all. He controlled my tongue with his, squeezing my ass each time I attempted to lead.
Tearing his mouth away from mine, he stepped back. “Turn around.” He gripped my waist and spun me around, so I was facing the full-length mirror, so our reflections were right in front of me.
Staring at me through the glass, he slowly unzipped the back of my dress—letting it fall to the floor in a pool of silk. He unclasped my bra and pushed it down my shoulder, letting it fall just as slowly. He slipped his hand through the lace band of my panties and ripped them off, placing them in his pocket.
With only my stilettos on, I stood stark naked in front of the mirror, watching him plant hard and rough kisses against my collarbone. Feeling him bite my skin each time I made a sound.
“Bend over and grab the counter,” he whispered, biting the back of my neck.
Swallowing, I leaned forward and gripped the cold marble.
I glanced down at the floor, but he threaded his fingers through my hair, gently pulling my head up, so I was facing the mirror again.
“I want you to keep your eyes on us,” he said, using his other hand to unbuckle his belt. “So you can see how much you’ve always hated me.”
“I always will.”
He smirked and let my hair go, taking a condom from his pocket before letting his pants fall to the floor. Splaying his hand against my back, he wedged his knee between my thighs to spread my legs a bit more.
With his eyes on mine in the mirror, he took his time putting on the condom—slowly rolling it over his huge length. When he was finished, he gripped my hips and placed his cock against my soaking wet slit. Rubbing it against me, he teased me for several seconds before slowly filling me, inch by inch.
He held me steady, and I did my best to keep a straight face in the mirror. I tried to resist giving him any satisfaction of knowing how good he felt inside of me.
I bit my lip to hold back my moans, hating that I knew he could see right through me. That the years of sexual tension between us were finally falling away in a rough, passionate standoff.
“Ah …” I couldn’t help but cry out when he was completely inside of me. “Oh my god …”
Without warning, he pulled out of me and thrust back in—damn near knocking me over with the force. I gripped the marble harder and became even more turned on, and I watched the reflection of him pounding into me repeatedly.
The sound of our skin slapping echoed off the walls, and my stilettos scraped the floor each time he re-entered me.
Letting go of my hips, he caressed my breasts and gently twisted my nipples.
“Fuck, Preston …” I murmured, watching him own my body with two different tempos.
He suddenly lifted my left hand from the counter and placed it against my pussy.
“Touch your clit for me,” he whispered, moving his left hand to my hair—to pull it hard. “Now.”
I slid my hand lower, circling my clit with two fingers.
“Is this how you want to be treated by the person you hate?” he hissed, glaring at me in the mirror. His expression was a mix of anger, lust, and something else I couldn’t quite make out.
“Is this what you wanted?” he asked, his voice a bit harsher.
I didn’t get a chance to answer. All I could do was moan, as he fucked me harder and harder.
“Tell me.” He growled, pulling me back by my hair until my head was tilted up and my pussy was throbbing against his cock. “Do you still hate me?”
I couldn’t get anything to fall from my lips but moans.
“Miss Lauren,” he said, mocking my voice from earlier. “Do you still hate me?”
“I’m—I’m about to come,” was all I could manage.
His thrusts came even harder, served with slaps against my ass, and I felt my legs buckling beneath me. I gripped the counter with both hands and tried to hold back, but I felt the orgasm overpower me.
Screaming his name, I shut my eyes as wave after wave of pleasure wracked its way through my body. I felt him steadying me, felt him thrusting inside of me a few more times as he found his release and harshly said my name.
Our gazes met in the mirror, and we remained entwined for several minutes. Dripping in sweat, we both looked freshly fucked, and I knew there was no way we could return to the gala without arousing suspicion.
Without saying a word, he pulled up his pants. Then he picked up my bra and took his time slipping it over my breasts. Clasping it, he pressed a kiss against my back before helping me into my dress.
“Here,” he said, taking off his jacket and placing it over my shoulders.
He buckled his belt and looked at me. “You never answered my question.”
“You asked me more than one.”
He smoothed my hair. “You know which one I’m talking about, Tara.”
“No, I don’t hate you, Preston … As much.”
“Hmmm.” He pressed his hand against the small of my back and walked me to the door.
When he unlocked it, I realized there was a long line of women waiting. Feeling my cheeks reddening, I looked down.
Preston let out a low laugh and led me toward the exit doors.
“Mr. Parker! Mr. Parker!” A blonde reporter stepped in front of us. I’m a reporter from Page Six. I was wondering if you could give us a quote about your place in the latest top five nominations for this year’s Mister New York.”