Lila gasped, then moaned as he stroked her clit, mouth not letting up on her breasts. The pressure built up with each passing second, and his fingers slid inside her.
There was no pain this time. She had healed from the surgery, after all.
Lila tugged at his boxers, hinting, and he complied.
“Who doesn’t want to dally now?” he said, and kissed her eyebrow.
“I’m not rushing. I just thought you were overdressed for the party.”
“Is that so.” He kissed his way to her neck, to her breasts, down her chest, to her hips. Finally he reached her slit.
She needed this. Not the sex, of course; she just needed someone to banish Tristan from her thoughts, finally and completely.
Lila came soon after La Roux’s warm tongue touched her clit. She called out…
Words. A long string of them, meaningless syllables rushing in a furious jumble.
La Roux did not stop. His busy tongue lapped and sucked at her clit until the pressure built and released in another inarticulate wave.
And then another.
She kept reaching for a headboard that didn’t exist, for wooden dowels that hadn’t been strong enough for her grip. But her headboard was a bare piece of wood, elegant in its plainness.
She wrapped her thighs around La Roux’s shoulders. Seconds later, the senator’s mouth fastened onto her lips. His cock slipped inside her, filling her differently than Tristan.
“Fuck,” she moaned, back arching as he pushed inside. “Fuck me.”
La Roux did as he was bid. He moved past gentle and cycled into harder strokes, but it wasn’t enough. Lila grabbed hold of his ass and thrust him into her, angry and frustrated and unfulfilled, her eyes closed to the room and the bed.
The pressure rose anew. She moaned and came, calling out again in a fury.
He joined her seconds later.
Gasping, he collapsed in a sweat, rolling onto the bed beside her, gathering his breath.
Lila opened her eyes.
La Roux stared back at her.
“I needed that,” she said.
“I think we both did,” he replied, taking her mouth once more. Locked in a sweaty embrace, she sucked at his lips, at his neck, let her hands rove across his body.
He rose again.
Lila hopped atop him this time, straddled him, rode him, vowing to give back as good as she had gotten. He matched her stroke for stroke, barely keeping up as she drove him insi
de her again and again. She smelled the light scent of whiskey, felt a touch at her back, and then he caressed her breasts.
Neither reached for her hips. When they dropped to grip her, he lingered on her thighs.
She came as he finally moaned his last. She didn’t pull away, though. She just flopped her head upon his chest, his cock still lost inside her.
The smell of whiskey was gone. She only smelled Sangre.
La Roux struggled to catch his breath. “That was…”
“Bad?” Lila panted.