I can barely suppress my grin. "Well, it is a special occasion, isn't it?" I ask. "It's the kick-off of your father's campaign and all. The big family breakfast."
"It's pastel," she says, squinting at me. "You look..."
I interrupt her, even though part of me is curious whether she's about to say I look like a complete tool in the shirt. After standing outside her door last night though, and watching how flustered she got just talking to me, I highly doubt she thinks I look like anything except sex. "It's a family breakfast," I say. "I want to look appropriate."
"You have something planned," she says¸ turning to reach for her doorknob. "Crap, I forgot my purse. You better not have anything planned. If you say a thing..."
I step behind her and she freezes, her hand still on the doorknob. Leaning in close to her, my lips near her neck, I speak in her ear. "Are you worried I'll tell everyone how you make those little whimpering sounds when you come?"
She shies away from me, but I can still see the hairs on the back of her neck raised up, the goose bumps that dot the length of her skin. She might pretend she hates me, but she wants me.
Katherine spins around, facing me, her eyes wide. "I swear to all that is holy, if you say something about us during this breakfast, I will rip off your balls with my bare hands and stuff them in your mouth."
The way she looks right now, a wild animal with her nostrils flaring and her eyes large, makes me instantly hard. I push her up against the door frame, pulling her wrists above her head and pinning them there. "Us?" I ask. "I'm glad you admit there's an us, Kate."
"No," she protests, her voice low. "There is no us. There was no us. There never will be an us. We had sex once, Caulter. It's never going to happen again. I don't even think about it. Why don't you just leave it alone?"
She's cute when she lies. Her mouth is upturned toward me, her breath short, her chest rising and falling as she speaks. Her buttoned-down shirt is undone at the top, and I can see just the faintest hint of cleavage, her full breasts pressed together. If I hadn't already been thinking about the way her tits looked in the button down shirt she was wearing, I am now that she is arching her back the way she is now. "Sure you don't think about it, Princess," I say. "Tell me you haven't laid in bed at night, slid your fingers down the front of your panties, thinking about how I felt inside you."
"You say a fucking word about anything and you're dead, Caulter." My cock feels like it's going to fucking explode, straining against the front of my khakis, as I watch her get so incensed. I glance down the hallway. It's empty, the upstairs quiet. I hear my mother's voice somewhere downstairs. But no one is nearby.
"I like the way you can't stop talking about fucking when you're around me," I whisper.
"A driver is going to come for us any minute now," Katherine says, her voice breathy. But I don't think she's warning me as much as she's telling me how much time I have.
I think about sliding my hands under her ass, carrying her into her bedroom, and ripping off the slacks she's wearing, plunging my cock into her willing pussy, just like I did that night. I consider taking her on every surface of that bedroom of hers. I want to defile her again.
She whimpers, and the sound pushes me over the edge. I keep my hand firmly across her wrists and use the other hand to flick open the button of her pants. Never taking my eyes off hers, I slide my hand inside her panties.
“Caulter,” she whispers, her eyes going wider as I touch her wetness, using it as lubrication to roll my fingers over and over her clit.
“You’re wet.” I refuse to take my eyes off hers as I move my fingers in circles, watching as her eyelids fall lower and her breath becomes shorter. “You want me to touch you.”
“No.” She shakes her head and glances to the side, over the landing, in the direction of the downstairs, a look of panic crossing her face. “We shouldn't. We can’t.”
I ignore her. Instead, I slide my fingers down further and tease her entrance briefly. Her pants are in the way, and I drop my other hand down to yank them low over her hips. She emits a soft yelp of protest, but her hands stay firmly planted above her head, despite no longer being held there.
“My father,” she whispers. “Your mother. Someone will -”
If my mother or her father walked upstairs, they’d see Katherine with her pants around her hips, breathing heavily while I shoved my fingers down her panties. “You’re right,” I say softly, teasing her entrance again with the tip of my fingers. “Anyone could see. I shouldn’t let you come on my fingers, the way that you want to.”