Richer Than God - Amelia Wilde Page 0,39
obvious I was rough with her by the way she moves. She’s doing well at hiding it. “My family has nothing to do with this.” Brigit stops by her seat and looks me in the eye.
It takes a beat to realize she’s waiting for me to pull her chair out for her. This little whore is determined to force me into being a gentleman, even now. I should bite her for it. Punish her. But I bet she’s anticipating that too. So I take my time with the chair then spread her napkin across her lap for her. The slightest pressure on the tops of her thighs makes her respond to me.
Two can play this game.
“Don’t be coy.” I sit down across from her and pick up the bottle of wine I chose after I made her leave my room. “They’ll be looking for you. A broken engagement? I didn’t expect that out of you.”
“What does anyone expect out of anyone?” Brigit watches the wine hit the bottom of the glass but doesn’t reach for it until I put it in front of her.
“It costs me more, you know.”
She sips her wine. “What does?”
“Putting my business at risk.”
Brigit straightens up, her hand tightening around the base of the glass. “I didn’t leave a note, if that’s what you’re suggesting. Nobody knows I came here.”
I laugh at her for that. “Sweetheart, everyone knows you came here. It’s only a matter of time before your uncle comes looking.” Time is short, if he shows up to the party.
Her pulse hammers at the side of her neck, visible to me from across the table. “How?”
“Women come and go. So do rumors. And there are rumors in the city of a brand-new plaything.”
She swallows hard. “I hate to get everyone’s hopes up.” Brigit’s face has gone pale, setting off the pink of her dress. Genuine fear flickers through her eyes. Unlike when she’s with me, there’s no forbidden edge of desire. I couldn’t wrench it out of her if I tried.
“There are things to be done.”
“I know.” She meets my eyes, defiant still. “I’ll bend over the table if that’s what this is about.” A tremble in her voice gives her away. “But I thought we were here for dinner.”
“About your uncle,” I insist, and I’m not fond of how I feel—slightly desperate. Off-balance. Like fucking her might be the only way to bring us back into alignment. “There are things to be done about him.” I keep it conversational. Fucking casual, though it’s the least causal thing I have ever discussed with Brigit. “I could take care of the situation.”
The woman who bled for me earlier, who took the pain into herself and only cried when I took pleasure from her by force, takes another measured sip of wine. “I’m sure you could do anything, if you wanted.”
“Make your request then.” Can she feel the wall against her back, how there’s no more give? If I don’t take matters into my own hands, then she—and my business—will be in danger as long as her family is involved.
“Just don’t let them in.”
I want to laugh. I thought she might propose, the brazen thing. “They’re not invited to dinner.”
“I just don’t know if I could live through it if they came here right now,” Brigit continues. “I’m still so sore. That would be the worst part, I think.”
“Come here.” Her eyes open wider, but she comes, bringing her wine with her. As soon as I can reach her I put my hands around her waist and lift her, putting her up on the dinner table where my plate will be as soon as I’m finished. I fold her dress back carefully, like a fucking napkin.
“What are you doing?”
“How will you eat if your pussy hurts?” Her panties are pretty, and then they’re nothing—ripped in two and slipped into my pocket.
Brigit spreads her legs for me like I’ve already given her the order, her wine glass to her lips. I reward her with a kiss on the inside of her thigh, then another, an inch higher. Then another. She lets out a hiss against her glass.
One of my staff comes in with the plates.
She freezes, but I don’t. I keep kissing up the inside of her thigh. Brigit’s covered, barely, by her dress.
“You can put those on the other side of the table,” I tell the man with the plates, who is completely unfazed. Not so for Brigit. “We’ll move them when we’re ready.”
I brush my