Chapter 12 Don't ask me what I'm doing because I don't have a logical answer other than I'm pissed off. A fake FBI agent came to my doorstep, and I don't know if Liora's setting me up or is in some kind of danger or both. And perhaps she hit a little too close to home with the obsession stuff. I might be a bit... obsessed. Or infatuated, since that's a healthier term. After Vega left, I went down the rabbit hole of what the absolute fuck while still having more questions than answers. But with that, I devised a plan. I was going to get Liora on my bike and straight up ask her since she's been nothing short of evasive. Now here I am, not trusting her, angry as fuck, but wanting this more than my next breath and not caring if it's stupid or not. I spend too much time thinking about her, and I think part of that is how drastically off course her life has gone since I walked out of it. It's guilt. Nothing more. But now this guilt has me not only employing her but also on my knees in the garage of my building, where literally anyone could find us. The cold concrete digs into my knees, my expensive pants collecting dust and grime. The fluorescent lights buzz overhead, casting Liora's face in a harsh glow that doesn't diminish her beauty but somehow makes it sharper, more dangerous. Her blonde hair falls around her perfect tits, and her eyes-those same eyes that once looked at me with teenage adoration-now regard me with something between contempt and hunger. We shouldn't be doing this. I shouldn't be doing this. I don't trust her, and what little trust I was starting to build with her is now gone. But that doesn't change the fact that I don't know how to stop wanting her. I'm going to be late for my meeting too, but it'll be worth it to have the taste of her pussy on my lips all afternoon. I was going to finger fuck her but her skin... fuck, her skin might just be the best thing ever. And truth be told, I've wanted to do this since I saw her on that fucking stage. Since I walked out on her ten years ago and had angel wings inked on my skin. She's been it. The one girl to get me in a place no one else has. "I..." She stares down at me with those impossible blue eyes, wary and uncertain, but so damn turned on it makes my cock pulse. Not jerking off to this tonight will be torture. My hands hit her thighs, her skirt bunched up to reveal the black, lacy thong I had just been feeling. I caught a glimpse when I startled her and she fell, but up close, she's too perfect for words. "Just so we're clear, if you weren't about to straddle my bike in this skirt, I would rip these right off." Though the thought of her bare pussy on the seat of my bike, feeling the vibrations of the engine rumbling into her... Christ, I'm so fucked now. I would lick the leather to taste that. Her breath hitches as my face dives right in, and I take a deep inhale. And yeah, she still smells the same here too. Fuuuck. This might end up backfiring on me. I was going to eat her out so I'd get the imagery of it-along with her-out of my system. But damn, is her cunt delicious. I don't pull down her panties because I'll be too tempted to keep them. Instead, I hold them to the side and take a look at her. So pretty. And motherfucking tight as my fingers push back into her. "Vander," she mutters anxiously, looking around. There are cameras in here but not in this corner. I know because I've been meaning to fix that but haven't gotten around to it yet. An oversight I'm grateful for. "I've got you. It's just us." I hope. My tongue swirls her clit, and her hand dives into the top of my hair and pulls, wrenching a groan straight from me. Shit do I like that. "Oh, god," she moans softly and rocks into my lips. It makes me smile. My little angel used to be so timid and shy with this. Always with the lights off, and she'd squirm and be self-conscious until I forced it into submission. Not anymore. Now she's bold and unapologetic about it. I slip one leg out of her panties and set her thigh over my shoulder while I press her back against the wall to open her up more to me. I want all of her. "We're going to be late. You should hurry." I look up at her as I flick her clit with my tongue. "Is that what you really want? For me to hurry?" She bites into her lip, and it's not even an attempt to be sexy or seductive. She doesn't know what this is any more than I do, and her brain is firing with it. I work my tongue against her clit with precision, remembering what she liked when we were teenagers fumbling in the back of my car or on the forgotten mattresses in an old, abandoned store. She's different now-we both are-but some things remain the same. The way her breath catches when I hit a particular spot. The slight tremble in her thighs when she's getting close. I pull my fingers out and use the wet digits to slap her clit, watching as it pulses. "Fuck." Her hand in my hair rips. "What the hell is that?" I do it again, watching her face. She wants to hate it. She wants to be angry about it. She likely finds it demeaning or degrading. But she likes it too. A little bit of pain that has me wondering if she could take more. If she'd like being trussed up in rope and edged until she cried. Fuck is right. Sᴇaʀch Thᴇ Fɪndηovᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. I smack her clit again, harder this time. Hard enough to make her cry out, and when it's extra sensitive and pulsing with blood, I suck it between my lips. "Holy fuck!" "I promised you stars." I slide my finger back inside her, feeling her tight heat, her dripping wetness. She gasps, her fuck you facade cracking ever so slightly as I add a second finger. I curl them forward, searching for that spot that will make her lose her mind. "Vander," she whispers, and hearing my name on her lips like this after all this time sends a surge of desire through me so intense it's painful. I don't deserve this. I don't deserve her saying my name like that, not after what I did. But I want it. It fuels rather than dampens my desire, making me work harder to please her, as if this one act could somehow balance the scales between us. Her hips fuck harder against my face, seeking more pressure, more friction. I give it to her by adding a third finger and stretching her slightly, loving how her body responds. My other hand grips her thigh, holding her steady as her balance begins to waver. All the while my lips and mouth and even teeth feast on her. I make out with her pussy, getting myself nice and messy in her. My tongue is everywhere, in her pussy along with my fingers and all over her clit, swirling and pressing and massaging. I work her faster, my fingers thrusting in rhythm with my tongue. Her breathing becomes erratic, her grip on my hair tightening to the point of pain. My scruffy chin chafes her sensitive skin, and I can't stop myself from biting her inner thigh. "Ah! Ow." She smacks my head. "Asshole, that hurt." I bet it did. My teeth marks are there, and fuck, do they make my pulse skyrocket and my cock drip in my briefs. I could come in my pants from this easier than I've ever come before. I hum against her, the vibration making her gasp. My fingers pound into her, and I find myself staring up at her, watching her face, getting lost in her pleasure as my tongue toys with her clit. Christ, has a woman ever owned me the way she does? I can't even deny it. She's fucking exquisite. I pinch her clit and tap it in time with my plunging fingers. She's lost. Her eyes are closed, her chest is heaving, and her cheeks are red. I bet her tits are too, and I'd fucking kill to see them right now. To taste them too. "Come on, Angel. Use me. Force me deeper. Tell me to give it to you harder. Punish me by making me take it." "Ah. Oh god. Yes. I'm so close. Don't stop. Lick me just like that." "You're not leaving here until I have your cum in my mouth." "Jesus, Vander," she pants. "I'm going to be hard all through my meeting with the taste of your cunt on my lips. It'll be torture not jerking off tonight." She smiles, and her eyes flash open. "I hope it hurts." I grin. "Me too. Pain doesn't scare me. It turns me on." I slap her pussy one last time before I cover it completely with my mouth and suck and lick her like the world is burning down around us. Her body tenses, her thighs clamp around my head, and she pulses against my tongue and fingers. Moans and strangled whimpers hum past her closed lips as she comes into my mouth, rocking and fucking my face. I don't stop drawing out her pleasure until she pushes my head away, too sensitive to continue. "Enough," she demands, her breathing ragged even as she steadies herself against the concrete pillar beside us. I put her panties back on and into place, kiss her pussy over them, and sit back on my heels, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand before sucking her cum off my fingers. My erection strains painfully against my pants, but this isn't about me. It never was. She straightens her skirt with trembling hands, not looking at me. The distance between us expands again, the momentary connection severed. I stand, my knees protesting after so long on the hard concrete. "Better, or do you still hate me?" She pushes herself away from the wall and lifts her computer bag off the ground. Her lips curve into a grin that just about drops me back to my knees with how sexy it is. "Oh, I still hate you. But that was fun." She pats my cheek like I'm a good little boy who served my purpose and begins to walk in the direction of my bike. It's the only motorcycle here in the executive area, so it's not tough to tell it's mine. She stands before it and makes a dismissive noise. "What?" She shrugs. "I like the bike you used to have better." "That old Ducati that I repaired?" Another shrug as she skirts my gaze. "Yes. It was hot. This is all fancy and CEO-like." I chuckle. She's not wrong. "I still have that bike. If I liked you, I'd take you out on it." "And if I wanted to die, I'd let you. This feels safer, even if safe on a motorcycle is an oxymoron." "When did you become so buttoned up? You used to love riding on the back of my bike." Now I get that hard glare. "I'm a stripper⁠-" "Exotic dancer," I correct, and she rolls her eyes at me. "Call it whatever you want, but that's hardly buttoned up. Riding a motorcycle is statistically dangerous, and again, single mom." I really, seriously need to have her answer my questions for once and find out what she's keeping from me. Because it's no longer simply her secret. It impacts me too now. I run my fingers along her hair until she looks at me. "Do you want to take my car instead? Would you feel safer that way?" "Yes. But I don't want to take the car." "You might be cold on the bike. I didn't really think about it till now, but you're only in a skirt." "I'll live. I'm a girl from Maine. I can manage a little cold." I pull out the extra leather jacket and helmet I have in the top case and hand them to her. I get a funny look that I ignore as I put on my own jacket and helmet. "You keep extras of these for all the girls you take for a ride?" Damn her. And damn my answer, I should have known she'd ask. "You're the only girl I've ever had on the back of my bike." I don't have to tell her that I bought these for her. I think that's pretty much implied now. I swing my leg over the bike and hold my hand out to her. She hesitates only a moment before taking it and using it to help her climb behind me. Her hands settle lightly on my hips as she attempts to maintain as much distance as the seat allows. "You'll need to hold onto me tighter than that," I say, starting the engine. The powerful rumble of the BMW K 1600 GTL vibrates through both of us. She sighs. "That's what I've been trying to avoid with you." She slides forward, pressing her chest against my back and wrapping her arms around my waist. I feel her warmth through the leather and lick my lips, smiling privately. I was going to ask her about her family, but now... now I think I need more time to dig on my own. That's what I do. Hacking is a solo art, not a group project. And I need a minute for myself. Because I'm starting to realize I want her to hold on to me. I never want her to let go. Few things in my life have ever felt as right to me as she does, and touching her just now... "Ready?" She squeezes my waist once instead of answering me, and I tell myself I'm grateful this is how things are between us. That me getting on my knees for her just now was the cherry on top, and no further amends are required. She'll have money and a stable job and access to whatever she or Hazel need. I'll take care of Agent Vega. Then I'll go back to being myself again. Focusing on work as both the CEO and the vigilante hacker. A place where women aren't part of my world other than for simple and fleeting moments. As I guide the motorcycle up the ramp and out into the afternoon air, I wonder what twisted part of me needed this. Needed to offer pleasure with no expectation of return. Is it guilt? Desire? Some combination of the two? The cold breeze surrounds us, but I barely feel it. All I can focus on is Liora's arms around me, the phantom echo of her pleasure in my head, and the certainty that when we arrive at the meeting, she'll step off this bike and become my efficient, distant assistant once more. And I'll let her because that's exactly what I need her to be.