Dont Blame Me

Chapter 25

If I spend another moment in this stuffy ballroom, I'm going to start shooting people just to release some tension. There are plenty of heads in this room that I wouldn't mind embedding with a bullet. Rosie stands beside me, her tiny hand gripping onto my arm like her life depends on it.
It's fucking addictive.

"Let's get out of here," I whisper in her ear. Her sweet jasmine smell wafts from the juncture between her neck and shoulder, and I have to grind my teeth against the urge to take a bite.

Flashes of her on her knees, that red rose in her hair as she sucked me off with a belt around that dainty neck... fuck.

A growl slips free, and it takes monumental effort to bite back the satisfied grin when I feel her tremble. Her reaction is more potent than a drug. It drives me deliriously insane, and the need to wrap my hand around her throat and fuck her until neither of us can breathe is overwhelming. This woman is going to reduce me to an animal. Her head snaps towards mine, her brows scrunching in confusion and what almost looks like anger. She probably thinks I mean to leave this place entirely and deny her the chance to get information on her great-grandmother.

"Calm, sweet little mouse. I just meant this room."
She relaxes, her shoulders dropping an inch.

It goes without saying that all guests are expected to stay inside the ballroom. But if staying on the safe side of rules and laws was something I did, I wouldn't be where I am now.
In a senator's house with a girl who's not supposed to want me.

I grab her hand, basking in the feel of her skin against mine as I guide her out of the room. I wait until it seems all eyes have turned away from us and slip through the door and out into a grand hallway.
Now would be a perfect time to search the house, see what I can discover in a pedophile's safe space. But selfishly, I want to ease some of the building tension swelling in Rosie's shoulders. She's doing fucking amazing so far. Despite the obvious nerves, she's managed to make every single person in the room fall in love with her. If anything, her shy, innocent demeanor and suave words are these people's daily dose of whatever prescription pills keep them sane.
I'm equal parts impressed and perturbed by her. Because all this woman has managed to do is make these people want to see her again. And that's the last thing both of us want.

I slide out my phone and shoot off a quick message to Jay, asking him to take care of the security cameras. I've spotted dozens just from the entrance to the ballroom, and I'm sure Mark has a team actively watching to make sure no one does exactly what we're doing now. Mark would be alerted immediately and we would be caught before we even got a chance to have fun.

Jay confirms the cameras are set, and Rosie and I take off. Her heels click against the tiled floor as we sneak through the maze of hallways and rooms.
Occasionally, I open up doors and peek inside, finding nothing of interest. That is until we get somewhere far enough away that the noise from the ballroom no longer penetrates the walls. At the end of another hallway are wide double doors, the cherry wood standing out against the champagne walls.
I head towards the doors, Rosie barely keeping up behind me.

"Lisa, we shouldn't be sneaking around. We're going to get in trouble," she pleads, glancing behind her as if someone is hot on her heels. It's the fifth time she's said that since we left the ballroom, yet her eyes are dilated with excitement.

She's not fooling me when she wears her arousal on her sleeve. She's scared. Nervous. And that feeling never fails to make her pussy dripping wet. The girl gets off on fear. The moment I realized she was turned on by the terror I instill in her-there was no chance of me ever letting her go. She was fucking made for me.

"Shh, baby girl," I whisper, silencing her weak protests. Her mouth audibly clicks shut, and this time I don't bother restraining the smile.
Too easy.