I raise her higher until her ass is braced against the handicap bar. Now my hand is free, and I grip her jaw and jerk her chin up. “You look at me when I’m making you come, Genny. Do you understand?”
She’s staring up at me now, but she answers again with just a nod.
“Words. Tell me in words how much you wanted this.” I’m desperate to hear her say it, and it’s only partly because I need the reassurance. The other reasons are less easy to put a finger on. They’re more base. More primal. I need her to say it because, in this moment, I’m half-caveman and crazed with lust.
I need her to say it because I know when she does, it’s going to be the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard.
Her expression twists into anguish, her eyes water, and she’s so fucking beautiful like this that I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do if she tells me that she didn’t want this because, Christ, I can’t stop.
And she still hasn’t answered me.
I tilt her chin up harder and move my face inches from hers. At the same time, I press my pelvis forward so that I rub against her clit each time I drive in. She grows tighter, but like fuck am I letting her come before she responds. “Answer me, Genny. Tell me that you played with me out there because you wanted to be fucked.”
“Yes,” she says, panting. “I wanted to be fucked.”
“And you wanted me to touch you. Under the table. So you took off your panties and taunted me.”
“Yes. I wanted you to put your fingers inside me.”
It’s my turn to nod. Because I’m speechless. Hearing her breath ragged, her voice thin from exertion—it really is the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard.
With her chin still pinched between my thumb and forefinger, I stare down at her open mouth. Then I lean down and suck on her lower lip. “Good,” I tell her before slipping my tongue along hers. “You’re so, so good.”
All of it is so, so good. Every last piece of this moment is perfection.
She orgasms first, but I’m right behind her, spiraling so hard and so fast I can’t hold her anymore. I let her go, keeping her caged against the wall. My legs are shaking; my vision is black. I press my forehead to hers and gulp in air like I’ve just finished running a mile at a full sprint.
When I’m calm enough to speak, I wipe at her smudged mascara with my thumb. “Are you all right?”
“Yes,” she sighs, her eyes closed.
Then, suddenly, her body goes rigid and her lids fly open. I step aside when she nudges me off of her. She crosses to the sink and examines herself in the mirror. “Jesus,” she mutters, sweeping her fingers along the lash line under her eyes. “What did we just do?”
I turn and lean against the wall, not quite ready to stand by myself. “Uh, do you need an instant replay?”
An instant replay. I practically feel myself getting hard again thinking about it.
Genny rubs the remnants of lipstick off her mouth, washes her hands, then crosses to the door.
“I’m going out first,” she says over her shoulder. “Give me at least five minutes before you follow.”
Not a problem. Because I need at least five minutes to recover. When I can move, I cross to the mirror and echo her previous sentiment. “What the hell did we just do?”
She’s still not in her seat when I return, which is odd since I waited a while before coming after her, but maybe she really went to the bathroom this time. Or maybe she saw someone she knew. I glance around and don’t see her, which makes me unexplainably anxious.
I wait until the current speaker sits down before leaning toward Hagan. “Do you think Genevieve is all right?”
He blinks a couple of times as though he needs a second to remember who I’m talking about. Then he says, “Oh. She came back while you were still gone and said she wasn’t feeling well. Sorry. I assumed she’d already told you.”
“Ah, no. I didn’t get that.” Had she said something that suggested she was leaving? Did I miss a cue?
I sit back in my chair, now more anxious than ever. What is it with this girl? Twice today I’ve had sex with her, thinking it was pretty damn fantastic, and twice she’s blown me off afterward. Am I seriously so twisted up about her that I don’t realize she’s not having a good time?
No. Impossible. She wanted it. She told me she wanted it.
This time I’m not waiting a week to chase her down. If she’s going to compare this experience to something banal and everyday like pizza, I need to hear it tonight.
I wish I had her number, but because of the way she took off, I’m pretty positive she wouldn’t respond to a text anyway. Besides, this is face-to-face subject matter.
So, once again, I lean over toward her brother. “I should send her some flowers. I know where she’s staying. Do you have her room number?”
Sucker gives it to me without a second thought.
I mean, it’s not like I’m going to do anything terrible with the information. Maybe I’ll even really have flowers when I show up there later on. We’ll see.
8
I end up foregoing the flowers.
Mainly because by the time the awards banquet is over, it’s after eleven and I don’t want to take the time to find a bouquet in the middle of the night. Anything I located would be shit leftover that didn’t sell during the day, anyway. Genevieve deserves more than that.
She deserves more than me standing at her door empty-handed, too, but if my gut is correct, all she really wants is for me to show up. And I have.
The Do Not Disturb sign is up, but I decide it doesn’t refer to me and knock quietly. A minute later, I hear her moving on the other side of the door, looking through the peephole, I assume.