Sins Of The Flesh. J. Margot Critch
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chest. Rafael was harder than he’d ever been in his life, and he needed to be inside of her.
He knew that they were in the back of a cab, and that they had an audience in the driver, but he didn’t care, and from the way her lithe fingers made their way under his shirt, and up his chest, she didn’t, either. The hand that rested on her bare thigh skimmed upward, until he was under her skirt. Her legs parted slightly, and he took it as an invitation to go further. When his fingers hit the satin barrier of her panties, he slipped past them and, again, she offered no resistance. He about shook with desire as his fingers found her hot flesh, already slick with her need. His fingers circled her clit, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, clutching him, pulling him closer. She cried into his mouth. Oblivious to the driver in the front seat, Rafael slid one finger and then another inside of her. She gripped his fingers from the inside, and he began to slide them in and out, as the heel of his hand pressed against her clit, his movement almost made effortless by how wet she was. He imagined that it was his dick, and he groaned into her mouth. Jessica’s breathing quickened. Her every physical response, her shallow breath, the way she spread her legs wider, allowing him greater access, the small desperate sounds that she made in his mouth, told him that she was coming.
He considered taking her then and there, as his cock about threatened to burst through his jeans, and he would have, if not for the sound of a throat clearing from the front seat. The driver, requiring their attention. He pulled away from her long enough to look at the other man. “Fuck,” Rafael muttered.
“Miss, we’re at your hotel,” the driver announced, looking straight out the windshield.
“Oh, right,” she said, her voice shaking, with her impending release, and his hand still between her legs, neither of them making any effort to move.
With one hand at the back of her head, he pulled her to him again, not letting her get away that quickly. He kissed her again. “Invite me up,” he told her, just a breath of electric air was all that separated them, his lips skimming hers with every word.
She said nothing, as he held his breath, waiting for the okay to go up with her and continue the night. But as the haze of desire cleared from her eyes, a look of shock replacing it, she gave him a soft “no” and pushed herself from his lap. “I can’t.”
His need for her numbed the surprise he felt by her refusal. Most women didn’t refuse him, especially after he made them feel the way he just had. But Jessica was different. She disengaged from him, taking her seat next to him. He immediately missed her heat, her slight weight against his dick. And they both remembered that because of the car seat that blocked the door nearest her, he had to get out to release her. “Move, please,” she said, her breath still heavy and matching his own.
He could have remained seated, insist again that they spend the night together. But she was right, and he knew it. They couldn’t. They shouldn’t. So, he nodded and got out of the car, adjusting the near-painful erection that threatened the integrity of his jeans zipper. She stood and opened her purse and withdrew her wallet.
“I’ve got the taxi,” he said. “Don’t worry about it.”
“I pay for my own ride,” she told him, putting some money on the back seat of the car, and before he could insist she take it back, she was already halfway to the hotel door. Rafael got back into the cab and blew out a breath. Jessica might pay for her own ride, but he knew that he would pay dearly for it, as well.
BY SUNDAY EVENING, Rafael was beat. He’d flown back to Vegas from San Francisco early that morning, and he’d gotten right down to work. In addition to his work on the city council, he also quietly oversaw the finances of The Brotherhood’s operations; while he was left out of the group’s decision-making, he was still very much involved behind-the-scenes. While most conglomerates employed teams of people to oversee all facets of operations, The Brotherhood preferred to manage as much as they could by themselves. Some people could look at his business involvement and see a conflict of interest, if they knew how closely tied he still was to The Brotherhood. Rafael had never explicitly used his political power for the betterment of his friends, or his own business, but he’d always considered it using all of the tools at his disposal. It was just how things were done.
From his office in the BH, the commercial tower they’d erected that housed the headquarters of their respective companies, he was putting the finishing touches on his analysis of the previous quarter’s profits. He closed his spreadsheets and turned his attention to a Word document he was working on. He heard his door open, and Alex walked in. The partners all had an open-door policy between them and rarely knocked before entering each other’s offices. It was Sunday, but that didn’t mean they weren’t at work. There was a lot to do. A lot of balls to keep up in the air. Rafael raised his hand in greeting, and Alex took the seat on the other side of his desk. Rafael hadn’t seen his friend since he’d returned.
“How was San Francisco?”
“Good,” he said simply, not willing to provide any detail. Not looking up, he put the finishing touches on the report, trying to forget the way his body stiffened, remembering how he’d touched and kissed Jessica the night before.
Alex leaned forward in his chair. “So, what happened? Did you see her?”
“If you’re so interested, maybe you should have come along.”
“Dude, I told you. I had a date. That fortuitously turned into two dates,” he said with a satisfied grin.
Rafael smiled, glad that Alex hadn’t actually tagged along. “Well, good thing I gave you the weekend off from the campaign.”
“But you need to tell me. Did you see Jessica? Was she at the strip club?”
Rafael didn’t respond at first. He closed his laptop and looked at his friend. “I need you to keep what you know about her between us,” he warned him.
“What? That doesn’t make any sense.”
“You can’t tell anyone about what we found out about her, okay?”
Alex nodded. “Yeah, man. Of course. But why? This could hand you an easy victory. Why the change of heart?”
He ignored his friend’s last question. He didn’t even know the answer to that one. He had gone to California to bust her, to see firsthand the information that would win him the election. “I did see her,” he confirmed, with a quick nod of his head. “And she was dancing. But I don’t know what I want to do about it yet.”
“What’s to know? Just give us the okay to leak it to the press. Dude, this is what you want.” He cocked his head to the side, eyes narrowing in understanding. “Did something happen between you and her?” he asked, suspicious.
“Nothing happened,” Rafael responded. Except a kiss that completely scorched him to his core and left him with a burn no number of cold showers would heal. “But I decided that I don’t want to win like that. I can win this election on my own. I don’t need to ruin her in the process.”
He could tell that Alex knew Rafael was hiding something. “What’s going on?” his friend asked. “Just two days ago, you wanted to end her.”
“Nothing’s going on. Just give me a little time to wrap my head around this. Everything is fine. I assure you. Don’t worry.”
“Fine.” Alex held up his hands in mock surrender. “It’s getting late. I was going to take off, but I stopped by to see if you wanted to head downstairs to the club and get a drink. See if there’s anything fun going on.”
The club, Di Terrestres, was their favorite business, their pet project, the crowned jewel of all The Brotherhood’s operations. When they’d built the office building, they’d left the bottom floors empty for their own fun—a members-only adult playground for the elite. The sex club catered to almost any desire a consenting adult could