Still soaked

CHAPTER FIFTEEN 

~ Camilla’s POV

I scrambled out of his office like my ass was on fire. 

Hell, it was on fire, figuratively, of course.

I stormed out of his office, my fingers clenched so tightly around the fabric of my ripped blouse that my knuckles ached. My bag was slung over my shoulder. The hallway was empty, thank God. I didn’t think I could handle running into anyone, not with the way my legs wobbled and my skin burned from everything.

I needed to get out of here. Fast.

The bastard had done this on purpose. He had made sure I left feeling stripped, not just of my clothes, but of my sanity, my pride, my entire sense of self. And worst of all? He enjoyed it. I could still hear his arrogant voice taunting me.

"Now, are you going to leave me like this, Camilla? Unless you’d rather drop to your knees and—"

I shook my head violently, as if I could physically shake his words out of my skull. God, I hate him. I hate him so much. I pressed my thighs together, my stomach twisting at the moistness still lingering there. I felt sticky, and utterly wrecked.

And not even from sex.

I hit the elevator button over and over, practically punching it. Come on, come on! The doors slid open, and I stumbled inside, slamming the button for the ground floor. The walls of the elevator were mirrored, and when I caught my reflection, I nearly died.

I died.

My shirt was gaping where he had torn the buttons, exposing way too much skin. My hair was a mess. My lips were swollen.

I looked—

Jesus Christ.

I looked like I had just been thoroughly ravished. I groaned and buried my face in my hands. The elevator doors opened, and I bolted, practically running through the lobby. The moment I stepped outside, the evening breeze hit, lifting my skirt slightly.

I yanked it down with a hiss. Oh, for the love of—!

I was going to murder Stephano Maddens.

Actually, I was quitting. Yes. Resigning immediately. I’d move to a different city, change my name, and pretend Stephano Maddens never existed. Because after what just happened in his office? I couldn’t face him again. Hell, I could barely walk.

I was never wearing this skirt again.

Ever.

The cool evening breeze licked at my bare thighs as I stood by the curb, desperately trying to wave down a cab.

Nothing.

Not a single damn car slowed.

It was like the entire city knew I had just been thoroughly humiliated in my boss’s office and decided to make my escape even harder. I clenched my fists, trying to block out the heat still burning between my legs, the humiliating stickiness clinging to my skin. I needed to get home. Needed to shower, burn this skirt, and forget Stephano Maddens ever existed.

Just then, of course. A soft purr of an engine rolled up beside me. My stomach dropped.

No, no, no, no.

I didn't even have to look to know who it was.

The tinted window slid down, revealing the very bastard responsible for my current state.

"Going somewhere, sweetheart?" Stephano’s voice reeked of pure arrogance.

I ignored him, waving my hand out harder for a cab.

He clicked his tongue, amused. "Tsk. Look at you. All flustered and desperate. What, you think you’re just going to walk home like that?"

I gritted my teeth.

"Go away."

"Mmm." He hummed like he was considering it. Then, "No."

I whirled around, glaring.

"Get. Lost."

"Not happening, sweetheart." His gaze dragged over me. "You really think I’m going to let you prance around looking like that? After the way you left my office?"

I froze.

His smirk deepened, voice lowering. "You’re practically begging to be thrown right back against my desk."

Heat slammed into my face.

"I—"

"And no coat?" He tsked, shaking his head. "You really wanted me to follow you, didn’t you?"

My mouth fell open. "Excuse me—"

"What’s the plan here, Camilla? Try to catch a cab like this? Sit there with your thighs clenched tight, hoping the driver doesn’t smell how much you liked being under me?"

I almost choked.

"I did not—"

"Didn’t you?" His eyes glinted, like he was having too much fun watching me suffer. "Because I have a very different memory of what happened back there."

I was going to murder him. Right here. Right now.

"Get. In. The. Car." 

I lifted my chin. "No."

His smirk disappeared..

"Camilla, if you don’t get in this car right now, I will pick you up, throw you over my shoulder, and personally carry you back to my office. Is that what you want?"

My stomach dropped. I took a step back.

He arched a brow. "Run, sweetheart. See how far you get before I catch you."

"I’d rather walk on broken glass than get into a car with you."

Stephano just smirked. That infuriating, cocky smirk. Like he’d been waiting for me to snap, waiting for me to say something ridiculous.

"Broken glass, huh?" He tsked, shaking his head. "Dramatic as ever, sweetheart."

I crossed my arms, glaring. "Leave me alone."

He didn’t move. He didn’t even blink. He just leaned back against his car like he had all the time in the world, arms crossed.

"Go ahead, then," he murmured. "Walk."

I hesitated. His smirk deepened. Like he knew I wouldn’t.

"I dare you," he added.

I exhaled sharply and turned toward the street, scanning for a cab. He let out a low hum. "Hope you don’t run into anyone you know," he said casually. "Would be embarrassing, wouldn’t it?"

I froze.

"Walking home like this." His voice was slow, lazy. "Looking a little… used."

Heat flared up my neck. "Shut up."

He chuckled. "Oh, come on, sweetheart. You feel it, don’t you?"

I refused to answer.

His gaze dragged over me, slow and knowing. "Bet you’re still wet."

My stomach flipped.

"Bet you can still feel where my hands. I wonder…" He tilted his head, eyes locked on mine. "Are you clenching your thighs right now?"

I was.

Stephano laughed.

"Poor thing," he murmured, like he actually felt bad for me. "That must be frustrating."

I gritted my teeth.

"Walking down the street like this." He exhaled a mock sigh. "I wonder if anyone else can tell. If they’ll look at you and just know."

"Know that someone already had his hands all over you today."

I hated him. My breath stuttered.

"That someone already—"

I whirled around. "For God's sake. Shut. Up."

He grinned.

"Make me," he said.

I let out a sharp breath, turning back toward the street.

"You know, sweetheart," he mused, voice rich with mockery, "you really should just get in the car."

"Not happening," I bit out.

His lips twitched. "You sure?"

I didn’t answer.

"Because," he continued, voice thoughtful, "if some guy on the street gets any ideas, I’m not stopping him." 

I stiffened, and a chill ran down my spine.

"What if one of them sees you? Sees how flushed you are? Sees how you keep pressing your thighs together like you’re trying to trap something between them?"

"What if he takes one look at you and realizes," Stephano went on, voice low and dangerous, "that your pussy is still soaked from earlier?"

My fingers curled into my palms.

He leaned closer, voice barely above a whisper. "Do you think he’d want to take a taste?"

I whipped around, face burning. "You are—"

"An asshole?" he finished, smirking. "Yeah, yeah. Got it. But I’m also right."

I inhaled sharply. "You don’t know anything."

His gaze dropped.

"I know that," he murmured, "if I reached between those pretty thighs right now, I’d find you warm and wet and aching for my cock."

I swallowed hard.

"Would you let me?" he mused.

"Absolutely not," I spat.

He chuckled. "Oh, sweetheart."

I turned away.

"Do you think," he continued, "if I slipped my fingers inside you right now, you’d come right here?"

My breath caught.

"Would you be able to stop yourself?"

I clenched my jaw, refusing to react.

"Or," he went on, tapping the roof of his car, "would you come so hard you wouldn’t care who was watching?"

"I hate you," I hissed.

His grin was wicked.

"You say that," he murmured, "but your body?" He let out a soft chuckle. "It fucking loves me."

I bit my lip, fighting the urge to scream.

Stephano sighed, bored, and pulled the car door open. "Get in, Camilla."

I stood firm.

His smirk sharpened. "Or do you want me to make you?"

My stomach flipped. "You wouldn’t—"

His eyes darkened. "Wouldn’t I?"

He drummed his fingers against the roof of the car. "Last chance, sweetheart. Either you get in, or I make sure you won’t be able to walk straight when you do."

I clenched my teeth.

The bastard wasn’t bluffing.

With a muttered curse, I yanked the door open and threw myself inside, slamming it shut so hard the windows shook.

"See?" he mused. "That wasn’t so hard, was it?"

I turned to the window, fuming. The second I slammed the car door shut, I knew I’d made a mistake.

I should have walked. Hell, I should have sprinted barefoot over broken glass because sitting here, trapped in his car with nowhere to run, was far worse than anything a little pain could do.

I kept my gaze stubbornly forward, even as I felt his eyes slide over me, lingering, prowling. My skirt had ridden up slightly when I sat down, but I wasn’t about to adjust it in front of him and give him any more ammunition.

Not that it mattered.

Stephano hummed. “That’s cute.”

I frowned, still refusing to look at him. “What is?”

“The way you’re pretending I wasn't under your skirt an hour ago.”

A bolt of mortification shot through me. My fingers twitched against my lap, and I crossed my arms, my skin prickling as I hissed, “You’re the worst.”

“And you’re a terrible liar.”

My head snapped toward him, and I instantly regretted it. The look on his face, it was pure, unfiltered arrogance, the kind of expression that made me want to slap him and maybe drag my nails down his chest immediately after.

I clenched my jaw. “You have an overinflated sense of self-importance.”

His smirk deepened. “You have a soaked pair of panties in your bag right now.”

“Did you think I wouldn’t notice? The way you practically ran out of my office, thighs clenched together like you were holding in a secret?” He let out a low chuckle. “Tell me, Camilla, are you throbbing right now?”

Heat spread to my face so quickly it felt like an inferno. “Drive.”

He ignored me completely.

“If it’s too much for you, all you have to do is ask.”

My throat was so tight I could barely get words out. “Ask for what?”

“To take my cock and ride it until you stop aching.”

I sucked in a sharp breath. “You—”

“Say the word. I can pull over right now.”

I snapped my legs together, fists clenched in my lap. “You are a bastard.”

“And you’re shaking.”

I stiffened.

His lips curled. “I bet if I slipped my fingers between those pretty thighs of yours, I’d find you soaked for me again. Want me to prove it?”

I turned my gaze back to the window, my heart slamming against my ribs. “Drive.”

He let out a soft, knowing chuckle. “As you wish.”

“But try not to come before we get to your place.”

I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my palms. “Do you ever get tired of hearing yourself talk about bending me over your desk? Because I sure as hell do.”

Stephano didn’t even blink. In fact, he had the audacity to smirk. That slow, knowing smirk that made something deep in my stomach tighten.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he drawled, shifting in his seat, the movement effortless, like he had all the time in the world. “I could stop talking about it–” his fingers traced the bare skin above my knee “—and just do it instead.”

I jolted, swatting his hand away as if his touch burned. Maybe it did. “Keep your hands to yourself.”

His chuckle was dark, teasing. “Now, where’s the fun in that?”

I crossed my legs, pressing my thighs tightly together, hoping to block his view, hoping he wouldn’t notice the warmth pooling between them. “You’re impossible.”

His gaze flicked up to mine, a challenge sparking in his eyes. “And you’re adorable when you pretend you don’t like this.”

I huffed. “No, really. Do you even hear yourself? It’s the same thing every damn time. ‘Oh, Camilla, I’m going to bend you over my desk. Oh, Camilla, I’m going to ruin you.’” I rolled my eyes dramatically. “God, get some new material.”

“That’s rich, coming from the woman who melts the second I touch her.”

I stiffened. “I do not melt.”

His smirk deepened. “No? Should I remind you of all the times you have?”

Heat prickled my skin, but I forced myself to glare at him. “I will actually file a restraining order.”

Stephano tipped his head back. “Dramatic.” His gaze snapped back to mine, darker now, more intense. “You’d have to actually want me to stop for that.”

I turned to the window, pretending I didn’t hear him.

His voice dipped lower, rougher. “But you don’t, do you?”

I swallowed hard, refusing to look at him.

Then, his lips brushed against my ear, his breath hot against my skin. “If you really wanted me to stop, you wouldn’t be sitting here, clenching your thighs like that.”

A shiver ran down my spine, but I forced myself to scoff. “I want you to shut up.”

His smirk returned, lazy and devastating. “Then come sit on my face and make me.”

I crossed my arms and rolled my eyes, and said in a mocking tone. “Camilla, I’ll fuck you so hard—”

Stephano let out a low chuckle, dark and amused. “That’s not bad,” he mused, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. “But if you’re going to mimic me, at least put some real feeling into it.”

I shot him a glare. “Oh, I’m sorry. Should I also smirk like a cocky bastard and say it like I think I’m God’s gift to women?”

His smirk widened. “Now you’re getting it.”

I huffed. “You are a dick.”

“And you are adorable when you’re pretending not to be flustered.” His hand twitched like he wanted to reach for me again, but he kept it on the wheel, which somehow made it worse.

I turned toward the window, my pulse hammering in my throat. “Can we just get to my place in silence?”

Stephano made a thoughtful sound. “Mmm. We could. Or I could spend the next ten minutes describing in explicit detail exactly what I’d do to you if you weren’t so stubborn.”

I clenched my jaw, refusing to take the bait.

He leaned in slightly, voice dropping to a sinful whisper. “Starting with bending you over the nearest surface and making you beg for—”

“Jesus Christ!” I threw up a hand. “Do you ever shut up?”

His grin was pure devil. “Not when I’m enjoying myself.”

Stephano’s fingers drummed lazily against the steering wheel. “Which turning?”

“Left. Maple Street,” I muttered, shifting in my seat.

He made the turn, but I felt it, his gaze lingering where it shouldn’t. I folded my arms over my chest, narrowing my eyes. “You pervert! Are you seriously staring at my boobs right now?”

He didn’t even pretend to be ashamed. “Not staring. Admiring.”

I scoffed. “Oh, well, in that case, please continue. Should I pose for you? Maybe push them up a little?”

His lips curled, eyes gleaming with something entirely too wicked. “Don’t tempt me, Camilla. I’m already picturing how perfect they’d feel in my hands. Soft. Warm. Filling my palms just right.”

I nearly choked on my own breath. “Are you out of your mind?”

He ignored me, like he was too deep in thought. “Though, I think I’d prefer them in my mouth. I bet you’d sound pretty when I—”

“You jerk!”

He grinned. “What? I’m just appreciating a work of art.”

I glared at him. “It’s called objectification, you pervert.”

“It’s called honesty. And believe me, if I were objectifying you, I wouldn’t stop at your tits.” His voice dropped lower.  “But since we’re already on the subject, tell me, are they sensitive?”

My jaw dropped. “I am not having this conversation.”

He smirked. “That’s not a no.”

I turned to the window, my face burning. “You are absolutely–”

“Careful, sweetheart,” he cut in smoothly. “Call me another name, and I might just pull over and test a theory.”

I clenched my thighs together, wishing I had taken my chances with walking over broken glass.