Strings and Schemes

Chapter 12

Without another word, I turn on my heel, stalking toward the exit.

Louis hands the driver a hundred-pound note, his signature smirk never wavering. "Take a long walk, yeah?" The driver nods, used to our antics, and disappears into the night.

The moment the door shuts, Louis turns to me, studying my face. His blue eyes hold no judgment—just understanding. He knows what this is. What I need this to be.

I grab the bottle of champagne from the limo's bar, twisting off the foil. I don't bother with glasses. "It's a drink-from-the-bottle kind of night," I say, bringing it to my lips.

Louis chuckles, watching me with amusement. "You know what? You're exactly right." He takes the bottle from my hands and drinks, his Adam's apple bobbing with each swallow.

The air between us shifts. It's electric, crackling with an energy we both recognize. This is different from all the other times. It's not just lust. It's not just comfort. It's survival.

I lean in first. Our lips meet in a slow, deliberate kiss—one that doesn't rush, doesn't demand. His hands settle on my waist, thumbs tracing circles over my exposed skin. I sigh against his lips, letting my body melt into his.

"You know," he murmurs, pulling back just enough for our breaths to mingle, "for all the crazy shit we've done, we've never done this before."

I smirk, fingers tangling in his hair. "And I think it's long overdue."

Louis chuckles darkly. "You might regret saying that."

He moves fast—too fast for me to process. One moment, I'm straddling his lap, the warmth of his body against mine. The next, I'm on my knees between his spread legs, staring up at him, my pulse hammering in my throat.

His fingers ghost through my hair, his touch light but insistent. "Blow me, Raina."

I shudder at the authority in his voice. No teasing, no hesitation. Just raw, unfiltered need.

I take my time, dragging my palms up the length of his thighs, feeling the tense muscles beneath the fabric. He watches, eyes hooded, chest rising and falling in anticipation. I undo his belt with slow, deliberate fingers, feeling his body react to every touch.

When I free him from his boxers, my breath catches. He's already hard, thick and heavy in my hand. I glance up at him through my lashes, savoring the way his jaw clenches, his fingers tightening ever so slightly in my hair.

I flick my tongue over the head, teasing him. His breath hisses between his teeth.

"Don't tease," he warns, voice strained.

I smirk. "And here I thought you liked a little build-up."

His grip tightens, tilting my chin up until I'm forced to meet his gaze. "I like seeing you with your mouth full. Now be a good girl and—fuck."

I take him in, inch by inch, hollowing my cheeks, letting my tongue swirl along the underside. His head falls back against the seat, a groan ripping from his throat.

I work him slowly at first, sucking, stroking, feeling his body tense beneath me. His hands guide my movements—not forceful, but firm, controlling the rhythm. I relax my throat, letting him push deeper, until I hear him curse under his breath.

His hips jerk, and I gag slightly, my nails digging into his thighs. Louis lets out a low, wicked chuckle, clearly enjoying my struggle.

"Look at you," he murmurs. "So fucking pretty like this."

I hum in response, the vibration making him curse again. His grip tightens, and he starts fucking into my mouth, slow but deep, his restraint fraying with each thrust. My eyes water, but I don't pull back. I want to see him fall apart. I want to feel him lose control.