Chapter 149: Clandestine Mission
- RAYA -
I should be nervous when Dex casually starts leading me down corridors that take us further away from the room where everyone is gathered, and I suppose I am a little, but the comfort of being next to him and the trust I have in him surpasses all of that.
I love this man. That truth blooms larger and larger the longer I’m around him, and if anything, having our relationship on display in this setting only cements the fact that I belong by his side. Today, with everything else going on that is competing for his attention and his feelings—and rightfully so—he has made me feel important, treasured, and essential.
I was ready to be here for him today in whatever way he needed, but I honestly didn’t expect this. I didn’t expect him to embrace me so completely and so openly as his partner.
Now with Dex’s confident gait, the gentle roll of his shoulders while he walks, the overwhelming masculinity of his entire being leading me, holding my hand, taking me somewhere to be alone in this otherwise public place... it’s thrilling. I hardly even remember what today is about when I’m so overtaken by the fire licking my belly and making my chest flutter.
We arrive at a wooden door that looks just like any other door we’ve passed thus far, but he takes the handle and pauses briefly to look one way and then the other before pushing it open and drawing me inside. It’s a small room with shelves full of rolled white towels and supplies. When he shuts the door, the room darkens with only a small amount of daylight streaming in from a small window near the ceiling.
Dex draws me into his arms and buries his head against my neck, groaning softly like he has been withholding the sound for so long. I hold him and imagine his long eyelashes resting against his cheeks, finding a silent solace together in this brief moment when everything outside requires a facade.
It may be a place and a time for mourning and honoring the memory of his father, but there is an image Dex needs to maintain. He needs to be strong. He needs to be the confident heir who is taking over the business. He needs to give reassurance, especially when his brother isn’t here. All of this at a time when he is struggling with feelings about his father’s death.
"I love you," he whispers.
If I imagined this clandestine mission to be entirely physical in its intent—quick and passionate and desperate for a physical escape from the heavy weight of difficult emotions—I was mistaken. Perhaps that is why he neglected to even mention the code word he created this morning, choosing to entirely bypass it.
Dex sighs heavily, hands coming up to cradle my face as he kisses me. And kissing him... being the recipient of his gentle, sincere love and desire is everything. The confidence and power he demonstrates with his presence is here in his kiss, and I’m the one who gets to receive it—who gets to see how deep his truth goes. It’s only for me.
"Is this okay?" He asks, pulling away only enough to whisper the question against my lips.
"More than okay," I say in return, a small puff of breath from my gentle laughter passing between us.
How can he be asking me if this is okay? It’s funny and adorable and sweet and it makes me love him even more.
This time his kiss deepens, hand curving around my neck and then trailing down my back. I whimper, and the sound ignites something--like it’s the spark he was waiting for.
Dex always tells me not to whimper, and I’ve come to realize why. It makes him ravenous, and this time when we are both hidden in the dark in a supply closet is no different.
His possessive growl is the short warning I get before his hands descend, seeking the hem of my dress and hiking up the material before sliding down my panties and hose. My hands return the favor, fighting with his belt and button and zipper until he springs free, and a liquid warmth rushes to the place between my thighs that is quickly ready, waiting, knowing the physical claim that is coming and that it wants now so greedily to receive.
"There is only one way to do this," he says, teeth nipping at my bottom lip before removing his suit jacket. The swells of his muscles pressing against the dress shirt and the hungry look in his eyes when he’s not touching me--when he’s draping the jacket over a shelf--has me biting my lip in anticipation.
There is a long table that appears to be used for folding towels as there are a number of them waiting to be rolled into perfect bundles at one end. Dex draws me that way, turning me around and urging me to bend over the cool metal. with his body quickly following, draping over mine like it belongs there. I fit perfectly beneath him, my smaller shape melting against his larger, more powerful one.
"Tell me if this is uncomfortable," he says next to my ear, and then in the next moment, my breath is gone.
Dex thrusts hard and quick all the way to the hilt and pauses, dropping his head against my shoulder, one hand curled under my stomach—palm flat against that plane of my belly and the other next to mine on the table where it’s large and rugged and so sexy.
He thrusts again, and a gasp leaves my lips that rolls into a soft moan. The contrast between his careful words and his unapologetic actions would strike me as funny if I wasn’t consumed by him—if he wasn’t already hitting a spot that makes my eyes roll back. He is considerate, but he is also under no illusion that I’m breakable. My body wants his—God, it needs his—as I’m sure he can tell by the way I’m pushing back against him, arching for more, for him to take me deeper.
"You feel so fucking good, angel," he says in a coarse voice, fingers splayed across my belly while he claims everything inside.
Quicker and quicker, he keeps hitting that insanely perfect spot and rolling his hips against mine with such force that I’m already coming undone. If I could hold back the moans, I swear I would, but I can’t. If anyone happens to be walking by this closet, it’s going to be very obvious what’s happening in here. Hopefully there is no need for towels in the club at the moment.
Dex pauses, making me pant and arch higher for him—my body begging, confused about why he would stop. He grabs one of the towels and slides it in front me, and I accept it—cradling it between my arms.
"Bite that if you need to," he says, and then to demonstrate bites my shoulder gently over the fabric of my dress as he begins rolling his hips again with an apparent desire to feel every bit of me that there is to, a cascade of sensations washing over me as he does.
When the hand on my belly descends and begins expertly circling the divine nub where all my nerve endings meet at the very same time that he’s hitting that perfect spot inside, I realize the need for the towel. Because the moaning becomes a scream. I’m screaming into the plush material, and a brief flicker of thought about how soft it is shoves through my mind before I’m blinded by a cascade of stars.
My remaining whimpers are still muffled when I start coming back down to earth, and then I’m aware of the tremors rolling out of me and spilling around him that I was unaware of only a second ago. I’m clenching around him, continuing to milk the last of this ecstasy when Dex groans, reaching his own climax, and then remains suspended inside as tremors ripple along with my own.
He doesn’t pull out right away. He doesn’t leave. He doesn’t want to, and I smile against the towel, turning my head to the side and resting against it like a pillow while Dex kisses my cheek over and over again—small, tender, sweet kisses of gratitude and love.
"You do realize we never use protection, right?" I say on a gentle laugh, sighing happily with the relaxed state my body has entered now, soft and satisfied under his.
It’s not something we have talked about—not once. And I think I know the reason for that. It’s like we’re both sure about the future despite the fact that we’ve only been together a short time. I don’t want children right away, but... I just know that whatever happens with him is going to be right.
"Yes," he says, quietly catching his breath. "We can if you want."
He kisses me again and then grabs another towel.
"Would you like us to?" His question feathers against my cheek, the scent of his breath so familiar and pleasant.
I think for a moment before answering, my mind still very much in the clouds and nowhere near reality.
"No." It’s a whispered confession, and his only response is to gently lift me off the table and clean us both up.
His eyes are gentle and loving as he helps me make my clothes proper and he does the same.
"I wonder if we could just stay in here until it’s over," he smiles and then kisses my nose.
"I wouldn’t mind. Anywhere with you."
