She truly has me pegged, doesn’t she? Then again, I didn’t mask who I really am around her. I could have. I could have played the wolf in the sheep’s clothing; but that’s frankly exhausting. Besides, I get the feeling she doesn’t mind. The three cocktails aside, she did not react like someone freaked out by casual stalking. She can take a few nips.

“I can wear a lot of masks. But if asking isn't getting me what I need, I'm fine with taking.” I lower my mouth back to hers, smiling against her lips to illustrate my point.

“I have a boyfriend,” she repeats.

Right. That guy. “Oh, my little ghost. You and I both know that if that was relevant, you wouldn't be here.”

She straightens up, offended. “You made me kiss you. And you owe my grandma an awful lot of anonymous money after that.”

Isn’t she adorable? We’re both aware I didn’t make her kiss me like that. Instead of pointing that fact out, I say, “I mean, you’re here in the first place. And in a teeny, tiny little skirt, so I can do this…”

My fingers slide from the counter to her knees, and run up along her thighs. They press together when I reach the apex, but I’m already there. All she does is trap me.

“I didn’t…I’m not⁠—”

I curve my finger.

“Oh! You can’t!” Claire swallows hard. “You can’t just do…”

My thumb is running circles around her clit while I insert another finger to play with the vise that is her cunt, robbing her of any protest.

“I really do love your skirt, little ghost. Admit it. You wore it for me. You wanted to look gorgeous, and sexy, and irresistible for me tonight.”

“Please!” she pleads, leaning into my touch, practically bent in two.

“I know what you need. And I’ll give it to you,” I assure her, my fingers moving faster, sliding in and out of her as she tightens. “It’s my prerogative and my privilege. But first, you’re going to tell me you came here to see me.”

“I…” she starts, her hands moving to my wrists, clamping around them. I don’t know if she’s trying to keep me there or move me. “Please, Keller. I’ve never done this. I can’t⁠—”

“What, come on someone’s fingers?” I guess.

She just shakes her head, hands squeezing even more. Christ, I can feel her nails digging into my skin.

“Come at all?” I throw out.

Her sudden flush is telling.

“Damn, do yourself a favor and dump the moron. You deserve a man who makes you come every day, sweetheart.”

Me. I could do that. I want to do that.

The thought comes unbidden. It’s a first. Shit, I need to fuck her already. Rid myself of this fascination.