Hawthorne

26 - Crazy

They can keep their snob ways as much as they want, for as long as it doesn't affect me.

Since the long silence turns awkward, I excuse myself, telling them I need to head to the restrooms again. I don't—not really—, but every excuse is good to leave them. That reminds me... I need one to get home.

That's why I go around the establishment, going through the longest way to get to the restroom hallway. When I get there, I can only place my hand on the doorknob before I am grabbed and pulled into another door, right next to it.

Inside it's dark and my eyes take a while to adjust, however, my brain doesn't. The hands grabbing my waist are familiar, the cologne that fills my nostrils has recently become my favourite and the breath hitting my neck is undeniably his.

"Cami?" His voice comes out rough, sharp and bitter, letting me know how much he doesn't like the nickname.

"Camilla," I correct him.

His hands lower to my bum and tighten, squeezing my flesh and making me gasp. As a response, my back arches towards him as his shortened breath rises from my neck to my ear.

"I would have appreciated knowing that your ex is my best friend's little brother."

His voice is low and menacing, worse than all other times he threw a fit. It makes me as excited as it makes me hesitant about what his intentions are.

"I didn't know," I pant, due to the grazing of his lips against my jawline. "And am I... not supposed... to be on my days... off?"

"I missed you," he grumbles.

The words that come out of his mouth, and the way he's saying them, hits deep inside me, pulling at all the strings, all the ones that go from my heart downwards, towards my core.

"Vincent," I sigh.

My brain is a mess. Jumbled and conflicting thoughts keep me from saying anything else and it only encourages him, to bring his hands up, while he backs me up against a wall. One of his hands tangles itself with my hair in the back of my head, forcing me to look at him. The other one plays in the middle of my chest, palm right over my heart while his fingers graze part of my collarbone and the base of my neck.

"Your heart is racing." He rasps, breath hitting my mouth directly and I moan in response to the sensuality in his voice. "Your body is so responsive to me. Was it like this with him?"

Body freezing for a second and eyes snapping open right away, I proceed to try and get away from his hold. His hand, wraps around the back of my neck, holding me in place. He is not squeezing or hurting me, just holding me there, not letting me get away from him.

"How dare you-"

"Little Milla," he growls, cutting me off. "Did he ever make you feel like I do?"

When I look away, his hand moves to the side, grabbing my jaw and forcing me to look back at him.

"Answer me," he orders.

"N-no," I stutter.

"Am I the only one who makes your heart race this fast?" His hand lowers again, to my chest just as his lips kiss that spot right above my heart. "Am I the only one who makes your body shiver this way?" A kiss on my shoulder while the hand on my chest travels to one of my breasts. "Am I the only one who makes your thighs clench this hard?" A nibble on my shoulder. "Am I the only one who makes your legs buckle this fast?"

"Y-yes," I moan, jutting my hips forward, desperate for some friction, for some relief.

The thin layer of my dress is bunched up by his calloused fingers up until they find the apex of my thighs, caressing my mound through the underwear. My legs buckle, just as he predicted but his arm wraps around my waist before I can fall to the ground.

"Am I the only one making you come?"

My panties are moved to the side just as he grazes my slit. I hold on tight to him, clutching his shoulders as tight as I can.

"Vincent..."

"That's right," he growls just as his fingers enter me. "It's me, isn't it? The only one who can make you feel like this? The only one you think of? The only name that comes out of that pretty and feisty mouth when it matters the most. It's only me, isn't it?"

I would be embarrassed to say that I am wet, but I am not. That's what his fingers found the moment they touched my slit and that's why he intrudes my opening effortlessly. I welcome him, swallowing his fingers inside me.

"Answer me, little Milla. Otherwise, I'll stop."

"It's you," I pant. "Only you."

There's a low and grumbling sound coming deep from his chest. It's animal-like, manly and oh-so sexy. His hands speed up, chasing my high relentlessly.

Inside this dark room, the sounds from outside are drowned by our own. Our pants, moans and groans are deafening. The rustling of the clothes, the grazing of skin and the frenetic hands clawing at each other are all-consuming. An unusual balance where he's taking for himself but at the same time giving me so much.

"You drive me crazy, Camilla," Vincent groans just before kissing me hard.

His hand keeps working me up and down there, three fingers in and out continuously while his thumb sporadically circles my clit, eliciting moans from me every time.

"Oh god, I'm-"

"Come, little Milla." His hand grabs my throat just as he forces me to look into his eyes. "Come all over my hand and moan my name. Show me how good I make you feel..."

My eyes roll back and my mouth slacks just as the pressure at the bottom of my stomach explodes, releasing euphoria all over. I contract around his hand several times as I chant his name like a prayer.

Just as the high starts crashing down, Vincent stills with his fingers still inside of me, the both of us panting and pressing our foreheads together. As serotonin dissipates and my senses slowly come back to me, I start to look around.

The storage room. Classy.

Is this all I am worth for him? There's a voice deep inside my brain that keeps telling me yes. That I'll never be good enough for him. I wasn't for Charlie and he is not even that high in the rank. My foolish self keeps falling and falling into this black hole without a trace of light surrounding it. The worse? I do it willingly.

And look where that brought me: being fingered in a goddamn storage room. Like the meaningless peasant I am.

A wave of shame washes over me and I quickly free myself from Vincent's hold, putting my dress back in place. Trying to make myself presentable.

I was only fingered but it feel like I was fucked into oblivion. Into submission.

"Hey," Vincent calls but I ignore him, trying to arrange my cleavage. "Hey, Camilla. What's wrong?"

"I am not a whore that you can finger or fuck around everywhere you want!" I snap. "If making me feel that disposable and trashy was enough to feed that possessive ego of yours, congratulations."

Vincent's face morphs, hurt lacing his features as if I just slapped him, but at this point, I am not above it to be the bigger person, to pity him.

That's why I leave before he can react and head towards the booth just to grab my belongings and hastily say goodbye to Rachel, Charlie and Oscar. They eye me curiously but don't question my sudden need to leave.

As I walk outside to grab a cab, my body shakes with embarrassment and humiliation.