Dangerously Tempted

Chapter 11: Flirting and Dancing Pt.2

Isabel

I'd never hungered for anything the way I craved her. Despite everything I'd uncovered tonight, my need for her overpowered all else.

Shock flickered across her flushed face as I lowered myself, meeting her gaze before pressing my mouth to her core. A sharp gasp tore from her lips, her fingers gripping the desk's edge. I wanted her to tug at my hair, to pull me closer, but I knew it would ruin my carefully styled look once this was over.

I swirled my tongue over her sensitive bud, savoring each groan that spilled from her, the sound reverberating through me like a spark. Her hips bucked instinctively forward, and, taking a page from her book, I pressed her firmly back against the desk.

With each kiss and flick of my tongue, I trailed my nails down her soft skin, igniting every nerve beneath.

"Isabella," she breathed, her voice taut with desire, her breaths shallow. But I didn't relent. I intensified my movements, my tongue slipping in and out, alternating between sucking and teasing. She tasted divine, like nothing I could ever tire of.

"Fuck." The word escaped her lips, raw, desperate, and she finally surrendered, her fingers weaving through my hair, gripping tightly as though grounding herself amid the overwhelming pleasure.

I was consumed by her, feeling whole yet insatiable. The tension coiled tightly inside me as I sensed her teetering on the edge. I flicked my tongue once more, teasing, before sucking her sensitive bud with renewed intensity. A cascade of breathless curses fell from her lips, and in that instant, her grip on my hand faltered, her body collapsing against the desk as she surrendered to the flood of release.

Triumph surged through me as I watched her chest heave, her breaths quick and ragged—a testament to the power I held over her.

Odile pushed herself up onto her elbow, her face glowing with a fierce radiance, a stark contrast to the vulnerability I'd just witnessed. In that moment, she looked commanding, utterly captivated, yet fiercely resolute.

...

The air between us had shifted dramatically, charged with unspoken words and lingering heat. Once we tidied ourselves up, and Odile picked up the mess she'd made on the ground, we made our way back downstairs, her hand never leaving my body—resting possessively on the small of my back.

I don't know why I'd thought all of the night's drama would just vanish, swept away under a rug never to be seen again. But the second we stepped back down into the crowd, it returned—like someone had pressed play on everything we'd paused.

Scott came into view first, standing there with that same smug expression he'd worn when he first introduced himself. His hand had extended out for me to shake then, which I'd pointedly declined. Now, I was grateful for that choice. I felt Odile tense beside me, her sharp intake of breath giving away her reaction just as Dalia appeared from behind Scott, casually linking her arm through his.

So they had stayed together? Interesting. Scott seemed engrossed in conversation with a group of men, and Dalia looked like nothing more than a pretty accessory on his arm, barely acknowledged by him. She clung to him as if seeking validation, but he didn't even glance her way, not once. It was almost pitiful to watch, and yet, I couldn't shake the feeling that this was far from over.

I glanced at Odile, trying to gauge just how much Dalia's presence affected her. Was she tense, or did she care at all? I hated the pang of jealousy that slithered up my spine, but there it was, creeping in like an unwelcome guest. That little devil found its way back

Odile's face remained unreadable, her eyes fixed on the group ahead. But I couldn't shake the feeling. Dalia had a history with her—one that still lingered in the air between them. And it made me wonder, even if just for a second, if I was the one being left in the dark.