He twitches the cloth aside and peers out. His arms tighten around me and he pulls me closer to his body. “What the fuck? It’s a smoke bomb.”
A bomb. Tieman set off a bomb in Hotel Ivera. What if people are hurt? This is because of me, because I asked for help, but it’s nothing like I expected. I thought he’d trip the fire alarm and I could slip away and run home.
Rasmussen’s still peering around the restaurant, but he must feel me trembling against him because he starts to stroke my back. “It’s all right. I don’t think anyone was hurt. Just surprised. I’ve got you.”
He drops the tablecloth and looks down at me. I’m pressed tight against his chest and our faces are so close that our breaths are mingling. My arms are around him and I don’t know how that happened. Rasmussen’s hand keeps stroking my lower back, and his fingers graze the hem of my short dress. It’s ridden up, exposing my underwear. No one can see it, concealed as we are. He can’t even see it in this cramped space, but he can feel it. His fingers dip a little lower. Then a little lower. He cups the curve of my ass, one of his fingers tracing the cleft, while his eyes darken with carnal interest.
“We should stay here,” he says huskily. “Until the danger’s over.”
He shifts, and one of his thighs press between mine as he rolls me onto my back. His mouth inches closer to mine. His fingers at my ass explore a little further, and a little further, until they’re past my ass and are questing toward my sex.
“We should go and see if everyone’s all right,” I say breathlessly, staring at his mouth.
“No. There might be gunmen.”
“It’s not gunmen, it’s—”
His eyes narrow. “It’s who?”
“I don’t know,” I say quickly. “If it’s just smoke then maybe it was an accident. There’s no reason to get your hands all over me.”
“What, like this?” He slides a hand up my body and squeezes one of my breasts. I stare at him, open-mouthed. Deliberately and slowly, he kneads my flesh, and then pinches my nipple and plucks it through my dress.
“Stop that,” I say, my head tipping back and heat cascading through my body.
Jakob slides his hand between my legs and starts rubbing my sex in slow circles over my satin underwear, searching for wetness. Searching for my entrance. He finds both, slipping beneath my underwear and driving his middle finger into my pussy.
I yelp in shock and pleasure and grip his shoulders. He splays my thighs and watches his finger slide in and out of me. I watch it, too, unable to comprehend what’s happening. With his other hand, he pulls aside my underwear, exposing my glistening, wet pussy.
“Holy hell,” he whispers, looking down at my sex and then back up at me. “Is this for me?”
I don’t answer. I can’t.
“How long has it been since you came, Sachelle?”
I bite my lip and moan. So long. Too long.
His mouth descends on my pussy and he swipes at my clit with his tongue. I smother my cries as he drives his finger into my pussy over and over, all the while licking me with his tongue.
“Fuck, baby, you’re as sweet as I imagined,” he murmurs without lifting his head. “I knew your pussy would be the most luscious thing I’ve ever tasted.”
I bury my fingers in his thick hair, knowing I’m going to come and not able to do anything about it. He’s going to tear this orgasm from me and then act like the smug bastard he is, and in this moment, I can’t make myself care. I’ll give him anything he wants so long as he doesn’t stop.
A voice drifts closer, the speaker sounding panicked. “…is here. I saw him having dinner. He’ll know what to do.”
“Yes, but where is he now?”
“Mr. Rasmussen? Mr. Rasmussen!”
The delicious sensations rolling through begin to coalesce in my clit and deep in my pussy. A few more licks of his tongue, a few more thrusts of his finger, and he’ll send me over the edge.
Rasmussen growls a curse and sits up, withdrawing his finger.
“No,” I whimper, clutching his shoulders. “Please.” I was so close. I’ve never felt like this before.
“Sorry, little fox. They’ll tear the place apart if I don’t go out there now.” He looks down at my face, my breasts, my thighs wrapped around him, as if drinking it all in. “Fuck, you’re perfect. We’ll finish this later.”
His gray eyes pin mine, part-promise, part-threat. He blots his mouth on his palm, smooths his rumpled hair, and gets up from beneath the table.
“I’m here.”
I lay where I am beneath the table, listening to him give orders to the hotel manager and the City Guard. It was just a smoke bomb. No one’s hurt, and they’re getting everyone accounted for and safely out of the building. Rasmussen orders the guards to block off the streets and for everyone trying to leave the area to be questioned.