Fuck. I don’t want her to simply tolerate the vibrator. I want her to enjoy it, physically and emotionally. I want her to willingly and happily relinquish control. That’s why this whole thing is so fucked up. I wouldn’t care so much if she was just another operative. But she’s not. And I’m on shaky, unfamiliar ground. You’re playing a fool’s game if you involve a woman you can barely keep your hands off in a covert mission. Fuck you, Smith.
After a few seconds pass, I stand directly behind her and gently tug at the ends of her hair, until her reflection meets mine in the mirror. “Tonight’s important. There won’t be photographs, because the paparazzi aren’t allowed anywhere near the club, but as you surmised, there will be a lot of tongue wagging. I need you to trust that I’ve thought through every detail carefully. That includes your feelings.” I run my hand down her back, and her lips part as she draws a large breath.
Above all else, the one thing that will make the mission successful is our insatiable desire for each other. It’s also what makes it soul-wrenching.
“The only thing I hadn’t anticipated is how gorgeous you’d be all dressed up, and how much I’d want to fuck you. But that’s my problem, not yours. And I won’t allow it to interfere with the plan.” I pause, allowing her to digest all of it.
I have responsibilities to Delilah that I intend on fulfilling at some point. But I also have a mission to think about, and while I’m not prepared to scrap her role in it, I need to know if she’s still on board. Better now than in a week.
“We’re going to be late for our reservation,” she says softly, gazing at me in the mirror.
I search her face, hoping for something more than resignation. As if she knows what I need, she nods. And I can breathe again.
“Think of tonight like one long scene.” I let my hand slide across her ass and down her shapely legs. “Do you trust me not to wrinkle your dress, or would you like to pull it up?”
She reaches down, and carefully lifts the bottom of her dress, until her ass is bared to me. I resist the urge to sink my teeth into the firm muscle.
I want her aroused. It will give her the flushed look of a woman in love—a new love. If she pulls it off, I have a reward for her, and if she doesn’t, she won’t get to ease the ache I’m going to make sure she has all night.
I rub my palm over her round little ass, and when I feel her relax, I bring my hand down hard on her tight cheek. She gasps at the bite of the blow. I’m going to give her the pain she craves, just enough to take the edge off and settle her.
Spanking her eats at me. It’s not what I want for her future—at least not all the time. But emotionally she needs the pain, and I haven’t had enough time to guide her elsewhere.
I might be conflicted, but I’m also aroused.
I slap her ass several more times, letting my fingers dip into her pussy between the sharp strikes, but never for long enough to give her the orgasm that she deserves. That’s for later.
When her skin is reddened, and her pussy primed, I nudge her thong aside and slip the pink vibrator into her, carefully adjusting the thin curve over her clit and the antenna on her almost bare mound. “Panties are optional,” I murmur, kissing the top of her head. “What do you think? Want to leave them here?”
“I think I would quit while I was ahead if I were you.”
I laugh softly. “You okay?”
“Other than my tender backside?”
“It sounds like you’re complaining.” Our eyes meet in the mirror. There’s no uncertainty now. Her eyes are bright and clear.
Delilah shakes her head. “No,” she says so softly I can barely hear it. “No complaints.”
Her calm demeanor should make me feel better, but it doesn’t. Inflicting pain is easy. It takes no skill and little effort. She deserves better.
After running a damp washcloth between her legs, I adjust her thong, smooth her dress over her hips, and help her upright. “Showtime.”
The walk to the elevator is quiet, with each of us embroiled in our own thoughts. While we wait for the doors to open, she peeks at me from the corner of her eye. The evening, and all it holds, is weighing on her again. She needs another distraction, and I reach for my phone, but change my mind. Not yet.
When we get into the private elevator, I cage her in the corner, with one hand on the side of her head and the other on my phone. I stop the elevator. “You’re beautiful, Delilah. No one will be able to keep their eyes off you. But you’re mine.” I kiss her roughly. “Say it.”
“I’m yours for the mission,” she says with a spark of defiance that makes my cock harder.
We’ll see. I shrug off the idea of keeping her when we’re done. That’s not the plan.
“If you behave yourself tonight, I have something special planned for you. Something you’ll really enjoy.”
“Maybe my reward can be that you’ll stay on your side of the bed and leave me the hell alone.” There’s a glimmer of challenge in her eyes.
Challenge accepted. I activate the vibrator and it jumps to life. There’s not the faintest buzz, but her mouth falls open and she sucks in a breath. I’m so close to her, I can feel the heat off her body. “Feels good, doesn’t it, darlin’?”
When she holds onto the elevator wall to steady herself, my mouth crashes into hers. It’s only the small moans in her throat that pull me back to reality. What the hell, Gray? What are you doing? It can’t be like this. You need to be in control. Otherwise the entire mission and everything you hope to accomplish is going to blow up in your face.
I turn off the vibrator, and restart the elevator.
Delilah pulls out a small compact and begins repairing her lipstick. The phallic tube against her lips sends a signal straight to my dick. I look away, trying to right myself before the damn doors open.
You’re fucking with my head, woman. And it’s my own goddamn fault.
21
Delilah
When we get off the elevator, Gray’s hand is on my back guiding me toward the hostess station—to the very spot where I stood, night after night.
As we walk through the restaurant, I smile and say hello to at least a half dozen staff who I know. It’s uncomfortable—I don’t know why exactly, maybe because I’m more at home being a staff member than a guest in a place like Wildflower.
Gray whispers something to the hostess, Laurel, who was hired right before I left. She nods and smiles, but I’m not sure she recognizes me. When they’re finished, he leads me into the dining room, to a table in the center of the room where everyone can see us.
The familiar way he touches my back and waits for me to be seated suggests this isn’t a business meeting. I’m sure the nosey-noses trying not to gawk think we’re a couple—or at the very least, on a third or fourth date.
The waiter and sommelier come over together to greet us, and though normally they would introduce themselves, no introductions are necessary.
“You can leave the menus, but we’d like a few minutes to enjoy a drink before we order.”
“Of course,” the waiter says, respectfully, turning his attention to me. But before I can order a drink, Gray takes the reins.