Page 15 of Something Borrowed

That’s what I tell myself as I thrust up into her and let the blissful blur of champagne continue to taint my better judgement.

Verity is moaning against my ear and it’s so fucking hard to control myself.

I want to rip her dress off her body and wrap my lips over her nipples. I want to grab her thighs and spread them open so that I can fuck her deeper.

We move together, both striving for that same control.

But even without the freedom of movement I would prefer, I am so close to exploding and I can feel how her pussy is pulsing over my cock.

Her nails dig in deeper and her legs shake.

She grinds herself against me and bites her lower lips.

In the dim light of the club, with red and pink lights flashing around us, she tilts her head back and gasps when the orgasm locks her onto me.

My cock goes rigid inside her.

The release is pure ecstasy as I come more intensely than I thought possible.

She giggles but doesn’t climb off my lap in a hurry.

Instead she leans over and picks up her champagne, sipping it, whilst watching my face.

“I think you’re bad for me.” She whispers against my ear.

“Why is that?” I chuckle.

“Because - with you - there seem to be no limits.”

“There aren’t any limits, little vixen. And even if there were - you and I can break them all.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Verity

My phone slides into the back pocket of my jeans. I’m ready to go.

Two security guards dressed in fitted black suites are standing close by in the living room of my father’s penthouse.

I pull my mouth to the side in annoyance, shooting a glare at both of them.

“I really don’t need them today. I’m just going to meet Sammy and Bella for some lunch.”

My father huffs in annoyance. “Verity, you know the rules. They go everywhere you go. Why do you have to push me every time?” he snarls angrily.

I bite my lip. The more I argue the more difficult it will make for me to lose them later. But if I don’t argue at all, he might be just as suspicious.

It’s getting harder every time I try to elude them because they are learning all my tricks.

Sighing to get my point across I spin on my heels, my high-top sneakers squeaking on the marble floor of the penthouse.

“Keep your phone on you, Verity.” My father warns me without looking up from the newspaper he’s reading.

The security guards both follow me out of the living room and into the private elevator.

“Where are we going this afternoon, Miss A’Vara?” one of them asks. I can’t even be bothered to learn their names. They come and go so frequently. These guys are already in trouble for losing me when I went to Collision last week, and I’ve evaded them once more since then - two days ago when I met Rufino for a cocktail at the yacht club - which is where I plan to go now.

These guards are already on the shit list with my father and I know that if I slip away from them one or two more times, they will lose their jobs and be replaced by new men with new names that I also won’t bother to learn.

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