Two Can Play (Celeste and Dominic) novel Chapter 668

"Why?" was all I managed.

"It's a shame, that's all." His smile turned sly. "You without makeup. Much better than the hideous mask you had on yesterday. I'll give you that much."

"What was the needle for?"

"Because you're dull and unwilling and it's boring me." He dropped the syringe into a tray and turned back. "That'll have you hot and wet in a few minutes. Go and find your client before it hits properly. You have a time limit, remember."

I gritted my teeth against a fresh wave of hatred for him, and he smiled wider and gave me the name of the hotel and the room number as though handing out a receipt.

I was out the door before he'd finished, and his voice followed me down the corridor.

"Bring back good results!"

I ran. Out of the corridor, across the empty floor, past the woman with the mop, and out into the street, arm already up.

The first cab took nearly two minutes to stop, and by then I could feel something happening at the base of my spine. A warmth, low and liquid, unfolding.

I gave the address, shoved money at him, and sat forward with my knees pressed together and my fingers laced white in my lap.

For the first four minutes, it was manageable. Warm. Pleasant, even. Then the warmth climbed, and it kept climbing, and it stopped being pleasant.

Heat pooled in my belly and spread down between my thighs in a slow, spreading seep, and I felt it happen, the unmistakable slick of it against my panties, and there was nothing in the world I could do about it. My nipples pulled tight under the dress, so tight the fabric dragged against them every time I breathed, and I was breathing far too fast.

I squirmed. Shifted one way, then the other, and my thighs slipped against each other with a wet little sound that I was certain the driver could hear.

By the time we turned onto the long avenue with the hotel's sign at the far end, I was sweating. Real sweat, at my hairline, above my lip, running down the small of my back. The air in that cab was warm and thick and every one of my nerve endings had been switched on and pointed outward, and the emptiness between my legs had turned into an ache with a shape to it, a demand, a fist of wanting that clenched and unclenched.

My eyes kept sliding to the back of the driver's head. Broad shoulders. Wedding ring. A perfectly ordinary man whose name I didn't know.

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