Page 13 of Riot Reunion
Dash doesn’t make a sound, but he’s staring at me, I can tell. If I were to look at him, I’m sure I’d find him smirking. Genesis has the decency to overlook my stammering, though. The woman is a consummate professional. “I’m happy to hear that,” she replies. “I’m sure Lord Lovett has been very careful to make sure all of your needs are met while you’ve been on the road. But there are some needs that only awomancan understand. I’m sure you know what I’m talking about.”
Before my head can explode, Dash places a hand in the small of my back and gently guides me forward toward a sleek elevator on the other side of the expansive lobby. “She knows precisely what you mean, Genesis. I’ll encourage Carrie to reach out to you if she finds she does need any help in a more feminine department.” Behind us, a guy appears in a slick, all-black tailored suit—I’m assuming this is Andrew. He takes our bags, dipping his head in a stiff, formal greeting as he wheels them toward the elevator.
Genesis beams. “Wonderful. Sleep well. I’ll be up in the morning with breakfast for you both at eight.”
5
DASH
As soon asthe door closes behind us, I stalk after Carrie, winding my arms around her waist from behind, lifting her off her feet. She squeals, thrashing. “What thehell, Dashiell! Put me down!”
I’m not putting her down. I have plans for this girl, and I won’t be letting her go until I have executed those plans. Not unless she uses our safe word. “If I slid my hand down the front of your sweats right now, what am I gonna find?” I rumble into her hair.
She goes still. I can feel her heart hammering beneath her ribs, her breath coming in quick and shallow. “What are you talking about?” she whispers.
“Genesis,” I growl. “She got to you, didn’t she?”
“Hah! Got to me? What do you mean,got to me?” She tries to loosen my grip on her, but her efforts are half-hearted at best. I don’t even know why she’s bothering. I dwarf her. I’mwaystronger than she is. The only way she’s freeing herself of me is if she saysthe word. Until she does, her ass is mine.
Burying my face into Carrie’s sea of curls, I breathe in the scent of her, my dick growing harder by the second. “You’ve never been hit on by a woman before, have you?”
The penthouse suite is massive. The high ceilings are at least twenty feet tall. The east-facing bank of windows are floor-to-ceiling, showcasing a stunning view of Downtown Seattle at night, the city churning like a machine down at street level. Despite its size and the sheer amount of glass, the suite is a comfortable temperature, though. There’s no reason for Carrie’s skin to break out into goosebumps the way that it is. Not unless she’s having a very visceral reaction to my words. “Answer the question,Stella.You’ve never been hit on by a woman, have you?”
“No! Urgh! I don’t—how the hell am I supposed to know?”
A furnace stokes to life inside me, raging out of control beneath my solar plexus. My reaction to this scenario is interesting. I’m secure enough in my masculinity and in our relationship that the idea of Carrie getting a little hot under the collar over a woman like Genesis isn’t bothering me at all. It’s driving me fuckingcrazy.
“You liked her flirting with you, didn’t you?” I ask, sliding my hand up Carrie’s body. I roughly palm her breast through her sweater, and her nipple is already piqued, hard and taut, as if it’s already been squeezed. As if it’s already been sucked. Her breath stutters out of her mouth in a choppy wave.
“She’s a receptionist, Dash. She wasn’t…flirting with me. She was just…doing her job.”
“Oh, she was fucking flirting with you. You know she was. And she isn’t a receptionist, love. She’s our concierge, which is very—” I bite her neck, applying just enough pressure to make her cry out, “—verydifferent. Itisher job to flirt with us.”
“You’re making her sound like a hooker,” Carrie pants.
I shrug a shoulder as I trace my tongue over the sensitive skin just below her ear lobe. “She wouldn’t argue with that assessment. Though she might dislike the term. Genesis is ourconcierge. Sex work can be a part of that. There’s no shame to it. If we want coffee, she’ll bring it to us. If we want to drive all the way up to Canada, she’ll find and rent an appropriate car for us. If I need a suit, she’ll get me one. If you feel like Ben and Jerry’s at four in the morning, she’ll get that for you, too. And if we call downstairs and tell her that we’d like for her to join us in our bedroom…so we could have her dip down and lap at that pretty little pussy of yours until you come, then she’ll be at that door in less than five minutes, ready to make you purr.”
“You can’t be serious!” Carrie’s voice cracks: it comes out as a high-pitched squeak. “I do not want a threesome with that woman!”
“Who said anything about a threesome? I don’t wanna touch her. But watching her eat your pussy until you scream might be hot enough to give me a fucking heart attack.”
“Jesus, Dash. I don’t—I don’t want her to do that!”
“Fine. Whatever you say.”
“I’m serious!”
She shudders against me, leaning her weight against my chest as I stroke her nipple through her shirt some more, pinching it roughly, still licking and sucking and kissing at her neck, teasing her with such light contact that she keeps letting out these delicious little whimpering sounds. I chuckle darkly. “All right. You weren’t flustered by her at all. Not even a little bit. And you don’t want to fool around with her. That’s cool. If you were completely unaffected by Genesis, then you won’t mind if I just play through a little fantasy in your ear, then, will you?”
“I—I couldn’t care—less what you do. I’m fine. I’m not—FUCK!” Her head falls back against my chest as I bite down on her neck again. “Oh my god! Dash!”
This woman has never been good at hiding her emotions. I know her body inside out. I know exactly how to touch her, how to caress her, how to kiss her, and how totalkto her to get her off.
“You’re wearing that green silk dress I bought you,” I murmur into her ear. “It’s so cold outside. You’re not wearing a bra. You know you can’t wear a bra with that dress, don’t you,Stella?”
She lets out a staggered sigh, nodding. “Yeah, I know.”
“Your nipples are so hard. They rub against the material of the raw silk every time you move, and it feels so, so good. They’resosensitive…” Tired of touching her over the top of her sweater, I roughly grab hold of the hem of the fabric and force my hand inside, up underneath the t-shirt she’s wearing. In two seconds, I have the cup of her bra yanked down, exposing her breast beneath the sweater. I palm the warm, full swell of her breast, stroking and rolling her nipple between my fingers.
