“I feel…” he grunts, his muscles taut and flexing beneath his black dress shirt, “I feel like you belong to me. Every fucking inch of you. Nobody can have you except me. Because I’m that greedy of an asshole. I want all of you to myself.”
I surrender, spinning in a high of orgasmic chemicals. The intense, all-consuming feeling leaves me crying out and sobbing tears of pleasure.
Salvatore crushes his lips to mine and sinks into me a final time.
We come together.
An explosion of ecstasy we share in.
So fucking good we’re lost for a long moment. We come down when we’re ready to; after we’ve dragged every second, every body-racking ripple of pleasure out of our orgasms.
Salvatore stands back to tuck himself back into his pants. I’m practically limp. My legs drape over the top of the desk like jelly, still spread wide.
I blink, dazed.
Composed once he’s fixed his clothes, he steps toward me and drops a kiss on my lips.
“Was that enough for you?” he asks, a throatiness about his tone. “You understand now how I feel?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
But there’s only one thought streaming through my head—how can I possibly guard my heart now?
The feelings I’ve been stomping down are already beginning to rise up. The terrifying reality of how deeply I feel for Salvatore—
Footsteps sound out in the hall. The door leading to the head curator’s office creaks.
I snap out of my trance and jump off the desk. “NorthamNeptune,” I say. “He was supposed to meet me. It’s time.”
“Phi, your dress.”
Salvatore helps me straighten up (my mask has even begun to slip off). Once I’m presentable again, I rush to the door, but he catches me by the wrist.
“No,” he says, barely above a whisper. “Listen carefully. Whoever he is, he’s speaking to somebody. We wait it out and see what happens.”
“I recognize that voice,”Delphine whispers, eyes wide. “It’s Commissioner Flynn!”
I drag her a couple more steps away from the door. “We need to figure out why he’s up here.”
“He can’t be NorthamNeptune. That would make no sense. Why would Flynn blackmail his peers?”
“Shhh, he’s speaking to somebody.”
I keep Delphine behind me, grabbing the doorknob, and gingerly cracking it open. Wide enough that any sounds from the hall float into the room, but still narrow to the point you wouldn’t notice it’s been drawn open.
Flynn has moved into the head curator’s office. He hasn’t even bothered to go all the way inside. I press my ear to the crack in the door and string together his distant words.
“He’s placing a call,” I say. I pause to listen some more. “He’s calling him.”
Delphine touches my back like she’s tempted to begin scaling over me. Just so she can get a chance to see and hear better.
“I’m here,” Flynn snarls. The continuous thud of his footsteps tells me he’s pacing back and forth. “You keep playing games with me. I’m no one’s puppet. You tell me to show up, so I show up. Yet once again, you’re not here.”