(no subject)
Lionel Luthor wasn’t in the habit of lying to himself.
He might lie to anyone else, whenever it served his purposes, but he’d always found it weak and counterproductive to try to deceive his own self. If a man wasn’t strong enough to face the truth about the world, then he had no business trying to function in it.
So Lionel had never lied to himself about Chloe’s feelings for him. He had no delusions about why she’d let him fuck her that first time and why she kept coming back for more.
She wasn’t in love with him. Didn’t have warm or tender feelings for him. Didn’t harbor any misdirected dreams about their living happily ever after in some sort of abhorrent, domestic bliss. If he suspected for a moment that she did, he would have dropped her without a moment’s hesitation.
Based on their history and her experiences with him, Chloe should hate him-and part of her probably still did. He was at least thirty years her senior, and, although his personal appearance had never been a weakness, he certainly didn’t look like whatever mindless, pretty movie-star-clone the girls were swooning over in any given week. Although he could be smooth and charismatic when he wanted to be, he’d never gone out of his way to attract or seduce Chloe. On the surface, there was no good reason for her to be with him at all.
Lionel never lied to himself. So he knew exactly why she was.
It was for the danger, the thrill, the forbidden nature of it, as much as anything else. She was with him despite herself, not because of it. She didn’t want to get stimulated by his presence, aroused by his touch, overwhelmed by his body and mind-so she’d found it all the more exhilarating that she was.
Human nature was contrary. Lionel knew that better than most. And a smart, ambitious young woman who had gone through her teenaged years overlooked and underappreciated would naturally transform that ingrained insecurity into defiance, into the desire to prove something to herself and to everyone who had ever belittled her.
Lionel happened to be her method for doing so.
It didn’t matter to him that she was using him-however unconsciously-as much as he was using her. He didn’t want some kind of fatuous romance. He preferred things the way they were. In fact, watching her constantly lose herself in the thrill of being this other person, teaching her every night he took her to his bed that there were depths to her nature she’d barely tapped into, had become a peculiar pleasure for Lionel.
The more she learned of her potential-beyond the boring expectations of her circle of friends-the more she would want him. She needed him and would grow more and more dependent on what only he could give her: physically, emotionally, and intellectually. Gradually, she would start to seriously question the security and wisdom of their relationship, but by then she would be hopelessly addicted to him.
As the jaded Vicomte de Valmont had discovered, a conquest was far more satisfying when the surrender was conflicted.
But perhaps that analogy wasn’t the most appropriate one. Unlike Valmont, Lionel had no intention of accidentally falling in love with Chloe.
He was, however, enjoying her. More than he’d enjoyed anything in years.
Fifteen weeks ago, a sexual relationship with Chloe Sullivan hadn’t even been in his range of vision. He’d sought her out, after years of distance, for another reason entirely.
When he’d realized that he would need a particular kind of informant to accomplish one of his business ventures, he’d immediately thought of Chloe. She was struggling in her career, and he knew-because of her ambition and the roadblocks she’d faced in her job-she’d be vulnerable to what he could offer her.
He’d been able to bend her to his needs back in Smallville, and he’d had no doubts he could do so again. People didn’t necessarily learn the lessons that experience should teach them. And Chloe, he knew, would always rise to a challenge.
So he’d offered her one. And-out of cynicism, defiance, or desperation-she’d taken it.
He’d assumed their relationship would be purely a professional one, although he’d always found the girl attractive. Even when she was seventeen, he’d had a few less than innocuous thoughts about her. She’d had the wit and resolve to challenge him, even back then, and more than once he’d been tempted to lay her down, explore her lush, young body, and teach her how good he could make her feel, how much passion was lingering behind her façade of witty confidence.
He hadn’t back then, since it hadn’t been worth the complications that would have inevitably arisen. And he hadn’t planned to do so a few months ago, since he’d been focused on other priorities at the time.
But the evening Chloe had come to see him in his office, fiery and defiant and resentful, even as she’d agreed to his terms, he’d suddenly changed his mind.
Without questioning the impulse, he’d grabbed her face and kissed her hard. His instincts rarely led him wrong. And, after her initial shock and outrage, her anger had transformed into an entirely different kind of fire.
That night, even after her body had become hot and pliant, even after her hands had grown eager and her eyes hungry, she still hadn’t been reconciled to giving herself to him so intimately. When he’d had her splayed out naked on his desk, her legs squeezing him in a demanding vice, his cock claiming her, making her whimper and moan, she’d still gasped out a few times, on frantic, taken breaths, “What am I doing?”
He’d known what she was doing. And by now she knew as well. Lionel had no intentions of it ending any time soon.
When he’d made her come that first time, as her body had shuddered helplessly on the desk and her fingers clawed at the wood in primitive need, he’d seen a particular look in her eyes. A look he now craved. Beyond the wild passion and the conflicted confusion, there had been something startled and . . . awed.
Something that spoke of an innocence inside her, despite her intelligence, cynicism, and experience. It wasn’t the vapid, childish naiveté of the Lang girl, over whom his son had made of pitiful fool of himself back in Smallville. Chloe wasn’t inexperienced. And she wasn’t naïve.
But she didn’t know herself yet. Lionel was the one who would show her.
* * *
“Why are we here again?” Chloe demanded, glaring at Lionel with a familiar impatience. "And why couldn't you just tell me where we were going when we left Metropolis?"
Lionel chuckled and sank into a large leather chair next the fireplace. He hadn’t been in this room-or in any room of the Smallville mansion-in a long time. “I thought you liked my disappointment of a son.”
Chloe rolled her eyes. She hadn’t sat down. Instead, she was pacing restlessly, obviously uncomfortable with the whole situation. “I haven’t talked to Lex in three years. And, in the rankings of my favorite people, he fell barely higher than you did.”
Raising his eyebrows, Lionel felt a faint rankling that he’d never been able to fully exorcise. “Really? I would have thought differently, given the way you fled into his arms with the least instigation.”
Chloe snorted. “Still miffed about that, are you? That was years ago, and you more than deserved it. Besides, I didn’t spend any time in his arms.”
Lionel had often wondered if there had been more going on between Chloe and his son in the months they’d been working together against him. Lex would have had more qualms about her age than Lionel would have himself, but their connection had struck Lionel as more intimate than professional.
Lionel wouldn’t have cared if they’d been fucking back then. What had infuriated him-and bothered him still-was that Chloe had had the gall to betray him.
Betray him for Lex, who would always be less of a man than his father was.
Lionel believed Chloe, since she didn’t have any reason to lie to him about that. In fact, had she had a sexual relationship with Lex in the past, she would certainly have used it as a weapon in their game of one-upmanship. But, amused by her annoyance, he arched his eyebrows. “Is that right?”
“Yes, it’s right. I had no interest in Lex romantically. And he probably thought of me as a pesky child he wanted to get rid of as soon as possible.”
Her choice of words told Lionel something-something he needed to know. “Ah!” he breathed, relaxing his arms on the arms of the chair, “I see.”
Chloe sucked in a breath. “You see what?”
He gave her a smile that he knew drove her crazy. “He hurt your feelings back then, did he? Because he dropped you after he’d used you for his own purposes?”
The clench of Chloe’s jaw revealed that his hypothesis had been accurate. Following through with the advantage, he added, “Or because you were nursing a silly infatuation for him?”
She was angry, but to her credit she managed to swallow over her rage and say coolly, “Even you can’t be that obtuse.” Her next words were an obvious taunt, as if she were hoping they’d get under Lionel’s skin, “You know who I was in love with back then.”
The Kent boy. There could have been no bigger waste of affection for a woman such as Chloe.
The thought of the passionate devotion she’d thrown away on such an unworthy target did get under Lionel’s skin, just a little. He had the sudden vivid memory of being in the boy’s body. Of being seconds away from taking that opportunity to seduce Chloe-to work out his own urges and put the girl in her place, after the way she’d betrayed him. But then he'd drawn back at the last second, and used the moment in a different way.
Thinking back on it, he realized that Clark Kent was one of the reasons she’d been driven into Lionel's bed now. He supposed he should be appreciative to the boy, for encouraging Chloe’s insecurity and lack of self-worth, which she was channeling into satisfaction through her relationship with him.
But the memory of the expression in her eyes-when she’d thought that the Kent boy had finally been about to kiss her-annoyed Lionel. A lot.
“Yes, I vaguely remember your embarrassing adoration of the simple-minded farm boy.” Lionel’s words were intended to sting, as he was determined to regain the upper-hand that he'd momentarily lost in his annoyance. “You didn’t hide it very well.”
Chloe cringed, probably at the memory, and Lionel was satisfied that he wasn’t the only one who didn’t enjoy this particular piece of nostalgia.
“But,” he continued, “That doesn’t negate the possibility that you had a similar childish crush on my son.”
“I didn’t have a crush on Lex. I didn’t even like him, most of the time.”
He believed her, but that didn’t stop him from driving home his next thrust. “Are you sure? You didn’t have girlish daydreams about cuddling with him next to the fire? Or his sweeping you up and carrying you away from your mundane existence? Or that he’d fuck you in front of the fire until you cried out in ecstasy? You were counting on him to save your life, and you were an inexperienced girl. Lex was young and eligible. I’d be shocked if you hadn't had a fantasy or two like that. He was saving you from a monster, wasn’t he?”
He shaped his tone and his words to be as offensive as possible, as the conversation brought up his resentment at her betrayal again.
He’d like to pretend that he hadn’t been so peeved by the actions of a seventeen year old girl. But Lionel never lied to himself. And the fact was it had-and still did-make him want to strangle someone.
Chloe stopped pacing and turned to stare at him, one hand on her hip. She was wearing a knee-length skirt and a white button-up top that stretched appealingly over her breasts. Her cheeks were beginning to flush in the invariable evidence of her emotions.
She was mad at him. He knew the signs well. But her voice was admirably cool and cutting as she said, “You really are still hung up on the way I turned against you. Surely people had betrayed you before.”
They had. Of course, they had. But Lionel had had Chloe wrapped around his finger. And, without warning, she’d betrayed him . . . with his son.
It was not a garden-variety betrayal, and only a fool would think it was.
“You’re overestimating your own importance. You were no more effective or significant than a defiant child, and I should have just turned you over my knee and spanked you.”
He framed the sentiment to be as condescending as possible, but-to his annoyance-his cock twitched at the image his words conjured up.
Chloe was breathing more rapidly now. He could see her chest rise and fall, could see the way the fabric of her shirt stretched across the curve of her breasts, until it gapped between two of the buttons. Her cheeks were deeply pink, but he suspected it was more from fury than desire. “I can just imagine how much you would have liked that, being the dirty old man you were.”
Lionel’s jaw almost clenched at the word “old,” but he knew she’d only used it to provoke a reaction. So, ignoring it, he decided he’d better change tactics. He was quickly becoming aroused-her anger was often what stimulated him the most-and it wouldn’t do for him to be the only one in that condition.
Being aroused when your partner wasn’t was not the most strategic position.
So he shifted in the chair until he was slouching in a leisurely sprawl. He let his eyes slide slowly from her hair-which was slipping out of the clip she’d tried to restrain it in-and down her body, lingering on the outline of nipples he could faintly see through the white fabric and ending on the graceful curve of her bare ankle. “I’m surprised you find the idea so repellent,” he drawled, “I seem to recall your enjoying such activity, not so long ago.”
She had enjoyed it, as much as he had. Spanking was one of the many sexual activities Lionel had introduced her to over the last few months. He had a vivid memory of the first time he’d taken his hand to her bare ass. After being skeptical at first, Chloe had gotten so wet and aroused from the spanking that she’d been embarrassed. Then he’d had her fuck herself with her fingers as he’d spanked her again.
She’d come so hard she hadn't been able to stop sobbing.
The memory of her screams of pained pleasure and her ripe bottom, reddened from his hand, was so potent that he experienced a familiar tightening in his belly and felt his cock harden all the way.
Fortunately, he could see that Chloe too was affected by the recollection. Her nostrils flared and she shifted restlessly. He caught a glimpse of her nipples through her shirt-they had tightened visibly-before she crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I was seventeen back then,” she gritted out. "Don't be ridiculous."
He raised his eyebrows again. “So that means you wouldn’t have enjoyed it?”
Not for a minute did Lionel think Chloe had had any sexual thoughts or fantasies about him when she’d been a teenager. She’d been far beyond the maturity of her peer-group, but her pitiful object of affection back then proved that she’d still been too narrow in her perspective on life to have entertained thoughts about fucking-or being erotically spanked by-a man like Lionel Luther.
So he expected a blunt, matter-of-fact reply, coupled with a few choice insults.
Instead, Chloe whispered, “Bastard,” and slid her eyes away from him self-consciously.
Lionel straightened up in the chair, realizing something for the first time. “So you did entertain some dirty, little fantasies about me back then, did you?”
Chloe had recovered by now and she simply rolled her eyes. “Right. Sure I did. I was surrounded by young, gorgeous men, and instead I lusted after a middle-aged asshole in need of a good haircut. Right.”
Lionel ignored the sarcasm and experienced a rush of satisfaction at his discovery. Even more turned on from the heightening of his ego, he murmured, “Speaking of lust . . .” He made a slight gesture with his hand, summoning her over to him.
“Don’t get any ideas,” Chloe insisted, staying near the fireplace, at a safe distance from him. “Lex might show up at any moment.”
Lionel gave a slight shrug. “He’s not due home for another hour. We have plenty of time.”
Frowning, Chloe put both hands on her hips, which pulled her shirt against her breasts deliciously and clearly revealed her erect nipples. “Then why the hell did we have to get here so early?”
Lionel had wanted to get to the mansion first, so he could gain the strategic advantage over his son. But there was no sense in telling Chloe that. “I thought we might take the time to . . . reminisce.”
Chloe snorted, clearly not buying it. “And why did you have to meet with Lex in person to get the documents signed? I thought you and he weren’t on speaking terms since he got LexCorp going again.”
Lionel sneered, both at the absurdly egotistical name and the thought of his son’s desertion. “We’re always on speaking terms. It’s just a matter of the manner in which we discuss things.”
“So why here? Why come all the way to Smallville to meet at the mansion when both of you live in Metropolis?” Chloe’s eyes were briefly serious, as if she really wanted to know.
So Lionel told her. “Sometimes being in a setting that evokes . . . fond memories works to one’s advantage.”
Chloe blinked once. And he could see that she understood.
Moving back into her previous complaints, which he knew were just her tactic to put off his amorous advances, she muttered, “But I still don’t see why I had to come along.”
“Don’t you?” Lionel watched her carefully.
Chloe suddenly smiled-a knowing, sultry smile he was learning to recognize. “I see. Another way to stick it to your son, huh? Wallop him with the news that you’re dating, fucking, whatever a woman five years younger than he is?”
Lionel returned her smile. “Close.”
Taking an unconscious step closer to him, Chloe was clearly thinking intently. “Oh, and I suppose the fact that it’s me-one of the pawns in your little catfight back then-will be a nice emblem of your ultimate superiority over him, which I suppose is important to you, given the nature of the particular documents being signed.”
His smile broadened, almost proudly. “Nicely deduced.”
She was in the midst of rolling her eyes at him when she abruptly jerked and bit her lower lip, as if she’d just thought of something. Looking back over at him, she asked, “Is that the only reason you’re fucking me? To get back at Lex for his betrayal?”
Lionel could see she was genuinely worried about that possibility, but he had no patience for such absurd insecurities. So he lifted an eyebrow and didn’t answer.
Chloe didn’t move, and he could see that her concern over the possibility was starting to get in the way of her earlier arousal. “Is it? Because, I know we’re not in love or anything, but I’m not sure I’m willing to get fucked in a symbolic gesture of vengeance.”
He felt his cock twitch again. “There’s nothing symbolic about the way we fuck each other.” He saw her face relax, so he continued, narrowing his eyes into a hot gaze, “Come here. I’ll show you exactly why I’ve been fucking you.”
Chloe moved over to him and he pulled her into his lap. He’d wanted her there, but as soon as she settled on top of him, he noticed that she was clingier than normal, squirming against him and twining her arms around his neck, as if she wanted him to hold her.
Lionel’s body reacted to the feel of her squirming against his chest and his groin, but he didn’t like the way her uncharacteristic clinginess made him feel. So, instead of putting his arms around her, he neatly rearranged her body, until she was sitting on his lap, facing away from him.
“Um,” Chloe began, glancing back at him as she stabilized herself with her hands on the arms of the chair. “You’re not getting any ideas, are you?”
“Of course, I am.” He reached around her until he could cup one of her breasts. He squeezed it and then slid his fingers along the full curve until he could rub her tightened nipple through the fabric.
He heard Chloe hiss softly in response, but she shifted around until she could see him better. “Seriously. I have no desire to fuck in place we’re likely to be caught.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “We’ve done it before. You had no complaints then.”
They’d actually been caught by a member of the housekeeping staff in that hotel in New York, when Lionel had had her bent over a table with her skirt bunched up around her waist.
Lionel hadn’t stopped fondling her nipple, and he suddenly gave it a pinch that caused Chloe to gasp and arch her neck back in surprised pleasure.
But she managed to assert, “Well, that was different. I’m as adventurous as anyone else. But I refuse to be caught by your son.”
Smiling, Lionel assured her, “He won’t be arriving for another fifty minutes. I promise we’ll be done long before then.”
That happened to be true. He would-and did-lie to her when it suited his purpose, but he wasn’t lying about this. He hadn’t arranged to meet Lex to take care of the paperwork until seven o’clock. And, although there were few things that daunted him sexually, he truly had no desire to have sex in the presence of his son.
But he knew that her anxiety would make things more exciting for Chloe. And he hadn’t yet had his fill of watching how the pleasure he gave her and the thrill of these experiences overcame her doubts and reluctance.
He turned her around in his lap again and began to massage her breasts with both of his hands.
Her head falling back as she reacted to his touch, Chloe asked, “Aren’t there servants around?”
“Not anymore. I’m hardly here anymore. You know that. An outside service does the cleaning.” He leaned forward, so he could speak into her ear. “There’s nothing here but you and me . . . and more than forty-five minutes which we could spend more constructively than arguing about foolishness from the past.”
“I don’t know . . .” Chloe murmured, glancing at the closed door of the library. “It feels kind of weird. Even if it isn’t Lex’s house anymore, it still feels like he’s going to walk in at any moment.”
“It was never his house.” Lionel felt his spine stiffen at another annoyance from the past, but he moved beyond it by slipping one of his hands down to Chloe’s knee. He caressed his way up her bare thigh, pushing up her skirt as he went. “But you can imagine he’ll walk in if you want. You know how the idea of getting caught turns you on.”
Chloe started gripping the arm of the chair as his fingers deftly stroked farther up her inner thigh. She was breathing erratically, and her cheeks were once more deeply flushed. “It does not. You’re the perv who likes to do all the kinky stuff.”
Lionel moved his free hand back up to her breast, and-with some slight pressure-he got her to relax backward, so that she was sprawled against his chest. One-handed, he undid two of the buttons on her top, until he was able to slip his hand under the fabric and glide his fingers across the satin of her bra.
Her nipple was even tighter than before, as he twirled it. And, even without that proof of her arousal, his other hand had now reached her groin. He cupped her. Felt how hot she was there and how the satin of her panties was growing damp.
He felt another rush of masculine satisfaction and another tug of pressure from his cock.
“If it helps you to pretend that, you’re welcome to do so.” He made sure he was rubbing his jaw against hers as he spoke. “But we both know the truth.”
Chloe moaned, low and guttural, as he started to apply pressure against the damp spot on her panties. Still reclining on top of him, she reached up and behind her with one arm. Settled her hand at the back of his neck. As her body became more and more responsive, she fisted her hand in his hair. “And what’s the truth?”
“That this is what you want.” His voice was huskier than usual because of the pulsing pressure from his cock. “That, as much as you try to fight it, you’re always going to come back to me.”
Even as her mouth had fallen open and her hips had started pumping up toward his hand, she hissed, “Bastard. Your ego must be the size of Metropolis by now.”
Lionel chuckled and released her breast so he could shift her hand from his hair to the front of his pants. He adjusted Chloe’s body to give him more room, and then he guided her hand in a massage of his insistently throbbing cock.
The stimulation offered some relief, and he let out a breath that was more textured than he’d intended. She gave him a sly glance over her shoulder and increased the pressure of her hand.
He stopped her with his fingers around her wrist. “I don’t think so. I have a better idea.”
She didn’t argue. Just waited to follow his lead, still trying to grind her arousal against his hand.
Lionel experienced a moment of sheer dominance at this sign of how much this strong-willed woman had bent to his will.
If she ever grew completely submissive, he’d immediately grow bored with her. No man with any real backbone would want that. But what he had was a woman who was torn between wanting to submit to him and refusing to do so.
Which he’d come to realize was exactly what he wanted.
“Lift up for a minute,” he instructed, moving his hands down to his belt.
Chloe did as he said, raising her ass until he was able to unfasten his trousers and free his cock. He didn’t move from his position in the armchair, however. Merely slid down a little for a more advantageous position.
Since she already had her skirt bunched up, he tugged on the thin strip attaching the front and back of her panties. “Why don’t you get rid of these?”
She slid off her panties, grumbling under her breath about how this had better be worth it.
With a smug smile, Lionel had no doubts that it would be.
He pulled her down until her ass was hovering above his lap. He held his erection upright until he’d lined himself up at her entrance. Then he helped her lower herself down, sheathing his hard cock in her wet warmth.
She released a long breath as she settled herself over him, and Lionel realized that he’d exhaled too, a sigh that had almost matched hers.
“Spread your legs some more,” Lionel told her, stroking up her thighs until he’d reached the soft flesh of her hips.
Chloe was fit and in good shape, but she was fleshier than Lionel had preferred in the past. He’d always liked the svelte lines of slim, long-limbed women, but he’d never realized how incredibly erotic curves like Chloe’s were. And not just her breasts. The feel of the soft flesh of her thighs and her hips was an entirely new kind of enticement for him.
Chloe parted her legs more and braced herself with her hands on the arms of the chair, so she could get more leverage with which to move over him.
His cock pleasurably stimulated in the wet clasp of her intimate muscles, Lionel leaned back again, relaxing as his eyes slid up and down the back of Chloe’s body. “How is it?” he asked, wanting to hear how much Chloe was enjoying this.
“Good,” she breathed, gripping the arms of the chair more tightly and starting to rock her body over his. “God, it’s going to be good.”
He huffed out a laugh at the surprise he could hear in her breathless tone. Moving his hand back up to her half-opened shirt, he found and fondled one of her breasts. “Didn’t I tell you?”
Chloe groaned as he twirled her nipple in a way he knew she particularly liked. Even her slight motion above him was stimulating his cock, and he was fighting the urge to buck his hips up into her. He wasn’t a boy anymore, and it had been a very long time since he’d been in danger of coming before he wanted to. But they didn’t have much time anyway, so there was no sense in wasting time on preliminaries.
So he let go of her hip and reached around. Stroked and explored her swollen intimate flesh until he’d found her clit.
He rubbed it in hard, tight circles, matching the massage with the way he was rubbing her nipple.
“Ah!” Chloe gasped, her body suddenly tensing on top of him with a jerk. “Oh, fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.” Her last words were almost swallowed on another raspy breath.
When he felt her starting to shake and heard her make familiar, helpless whimpers, he abruptly eased off her clit.
Shifting both hands to her hips, he started to guide her suddenly urgent motion, prompted by her interrupted orgasm.
She started to ride him for real, bracing herself with her arms and pumping her pelvis over him in a fast, choppy staccato. “That was mean,” she panted, more of her hair slipping out of the clip as she tossed her head.
Lionel let himself make small thrusts up, his pelvis connecting with her ass in muffled slaps. His cock kept pushing into her tight channel, and the pressure in his balls kept increasing. His grip on her hips stabilized her balance and slowed her down when her motion became too clumsy.
He heard a hissed out word that sounded like, “Yes.” Only afterwards realized it had come from him.
Focusing away from the erotic bouncing of Chloe’s ass in his lap, he centered his concentration and murmured, “You know how much better it is when I don’t let you come right away.”
She tried to mutter out a complaint, but the sensations were quickly overwhelming her. The clip falling out of her hair completely, blond strands started to stick to the red, damp skin of her cheeks. “Yeah,” she huffed out. “Yeah, yeah, yeah.”
“You know how hard you come when I make you wait.”
The verbal interaction was as important and as erotic to Lionel as the physical sensations. And nothing exhilarated him more than watching how all of Chloe’s resolve and defiance slipped away as she lost herself in sex.
He wasn’t fool enough to think that merely pleasing her body was enough to accomplish this. Pure sensation could only accomplish so much. But Chloe let the physical sensations take over her will. She wanted to lose herself in this way. She needed the freedom of letting go of all the forces that had shaped her before.
And he was the only one who could do this for her.
“Yeah. Make me come.” Her voice was shrill and choppy, and she was obviously becoming winded from her effort and her rising pleasure.
When he saw jerk her head to the side, twist her face, and make frantic sobbing sounds, he realized she was about to come again.
Since he’d recovered his focus, he decided there was no reason to have it end so quickly. He was likely to come when she did, and he wanted this to be something she would remember.
So he halted the pumping of his hips and tightened his hands on Chloe, forcing her to stop her bouncing and hold still.
“Eh!” Chloe gasped in outage, trying to squirm her way out of his grip. “You sadistic ass. I was gonna come.”
He wrapped both arms around her and straightened his back until he was embracing her from behind. It was partly to hold her still, and partly to keep her from getting so angry that she got up and left. “You were really exerting yourself. I thought you needed a rest,” he breathed against her hair.
“Liar.” But her squirming eased to a slight rolling of her hips, and she rested her arms on his. “You just like to torture me.”
His laughter blew against her hair, which had become slightly damp from her perspiration. As he’d straightened up, his cock had shifted its angle inside her, and he was feeling new pressure start to build up in response. “I’ll admit that, if you admit how much you enjoy my brand of torture.”
“I do not,” she began, until he cupped and squeezed her breast again. “Fuck, Lionel, if you don’t let me come soon I’m going to scream.”
“Is that a promise?”
She’d actually smiled in response to his dry humor, but then he noticed her eyes darting over to the library door again. “Are you sure he’s not going to show up early?”
“Can you imagine him giving me the chance to make him wait like a menial until the scheduled time? He’ll probably be late, as some sort of petty gesture.” As he spoke, Lionel relaxed his hold on her and leaned back in the chair once again.
With a sigh, Chloe started to ride him again, this time more rhythmically. “You better be right.”
“There you go again. Pretending the thought of being caught doesn’t make you hot.”
“It doesn’t,” she insisted, her head ducking down as she sped up her rhythm.
“Yes, it does.” He closed his eyes for a moment, as he felt a sudden burst of sensation shoot through his cock. “You want someone to see me fucking you.”
“No. I. Don’t.” She was losing her breath again, and her body was tightening as her breasts began to slap against her chest as she bounced. She must have found some better purchase for her heels, since she seemed to have better leverage than before.
“You do.” He loved the battle, almost as much as he loved the inevitable surrender. “You want to show everyone how hot and wild you are. How naughty you can be. That you’re not the good girl they always thought you were.”
She was whimpering now and bouncing over him frantically. He was careful to hold her firmly, so she wouldn’t pump so erratically that his cock slipped out of her tightening channel. “Not. True.” Her neck was twitching, tossing her head, and her fingers were trying to fist in the upholstery.
“Of course, it is.” His own voice was growing breathless as he began to thrust up into her again, the building pressure of his impending climax becoming irresistible. “You need me. You always will. And you want everyone to know it.”
Her head jerked to the side, her chin tucking against her shoulder. And he could see that she was biting her lower lip as she whimpered and panted in desperation.
He was panting too, although he was attempting to control it. His body was flooded with an almost unbearable heat, and his vision was starting to glaze over as he tried to fight against the swell of sensation. “Tell me,” he demanded, his hips starting to jerk with uncharacteristic clumsiness, needing more friction to feed the demanding compulsion of his cock.
Chloe released her resistance with a sob as her body began to shudder and quake. “Yeah. Yeah. Need you!” She made some loud, incoherent mewling sounds. “God, Lionel, please!”
He let out his breath in a harsh whoosh and bucked his pelvis up so that his cock made a hard thrust inside her. “Let me see you come,” he rasped, feeling his own climax finally overwhelming him. He thrust up again, pulling her down to meet the force of his thrust. “For me.”
“Ah! Ah!” Chloe cried out, her body starting to spasm and her face contorting with what looked like agonizing pain.
The sudden brutal clench of her inner muscles around his cock was all that Lionel could take. He felt the pleasure draw up in his balls and force its way out in pulsing waves that leveled him for the moment. “Augh!” he burst out, as he came hard and violently, the sensations ripping through his whole body.
He could always control everything-right until the very end. But he could never hold back his response as came. His lack of control infuriated him, but that reaction was always lost in the flood of rich satisfaction that washed over him as the spasms of his cock and the convulsing of Chloe’s body finally eased.
Chloe collapsed on top of him, half-naked and utterly exhausted. “God, that was good,” she gasped, hot and sweaty and gorgeous and debauched.
“Indeed,” Lionel agreed, feeling slightly uncomfortable as he sensed that Chloe was wanting to cuddle. “Do you want to meet with my son in that . . . very natural state, announcing to the world that you’ve just been fucked? Or would you like to run clean yourself up some?”
He was confident that she’d want to clean up, which is what he was counting on, since he needed the minute to pull himself together.
But he never actually got to hear Chloe’s answer.
Instead, he heard someone clearing his throat from behind them.
Both Chloe and Lionel jerked in surprise, and Chloe let out a startled cry. They both turned to see Lex, who’d come-not from the door they’d expected him-but from one of the other adjoining rooms.
Chloe whimpered and frantically tried to readjust her clothes, her body starting to shake in mortification.
Lex was wearing a business suit, and his expression was absolutely unrevealing. His eyes barely flicked over the couple tangled up in the armchair. He simply walked silently, stiffly to the main door of the library. Left the room without a word or a backward glance.
“Oh, God,” Chloe choked. “Oh, God, that didn’t just happen. How much do you think he saw?”
Lionel had no idea. Had no idea when his son had arrived at the mansion.
He’d truly never dreamed, when he’d seduced Chloe into having sex just now, that his son would actually catch them.
The reality of the situation finally settling over him, Lionel buried his face in Chloe’s warm neck and soft hair.
And he started to laugh.