Gilded Desires

Chapter 13: Fortune Inn - I Want to Take Her

Chapter 13 | Fortune Inn: I Want to Take Her

The taste of blood spread slowly across her lips. Clara Hayes released her bite with deliberate satisfaction and drew back from Elliot Vance’s mouth, her eyes glittering with mischief as she studied the thin trickle of red on his lower lip.

Let’s see who’s laughing now.

Elliot raised his hand and wiped his thumb across his mouth. When he saw the vivid stain of blood, something dark flashed in his eyes. Without a word, he yanked her into his chest, one hand clamping the back of her head, the other pressing her body into his. His mouth crashed back down onto hers in a kiss that held nothing of tenderness.

“Mmmph…” Clara gasped, caught off guard. She panicked and pushed at his chest, fists pounding against his firm torso—but it was like trying to move a wall.

The harder she resisted, the deeper his kiss became. His lips bruised hers, demanding entry she refused to give. Frustrated, his fingers tangled in her hair and yanked her head down hard.

“Ah—!” Her cry split the air, her mouth falling open from the sharp pain.

He seized the moment. His tongue invaded her mouth, coiling around hers like fire and smoke, tasting her, devouring her.

“Mmm…” The way he kissed—ruthless and unrelenting—left Clara defenseless. A trace of tobacco lingered on his breath, and each stroke of his tongue sent shivers racing down her spine, converging low between her thighs where need pulsed like a secret.

“No… I can’t…” she whimpered, clutching at the lapels of his coat, trying to steady herself, trying to stop the tide she’d helped summon.

Outside, the muffled voices of Shawn Rayne and Abu filtered through the door. Elliot didn’t even flinch. He wrapped his arms around Clara and stepped back, kicked the door shut with a sharp thud, and twisted the lock behind him.

The storage room fell into thick silence, lit only by a sliver of dusty light. He turned, gripping her hips, lifting her onto the cluttered table. Her thighs instinctively parted, allowing him to step between them. One hand stayed at the back of her head, the other slipped around her waist, anchoring her in place as his mouth captured hers once again.

“Mmm…” Her breath came in shallow gasps as she melted into the kiss, her legs curling tightly around his hips without thought.

Elliot had wanted her from the start. The night he saw her leave Shawn’s room, he dreamt of pinning her beneath him, of taking her until neither of them could walk. He’d woken sticky and furious, his desire an ache he couldn’t shake. It was only because Shawn had warned him—told him she wasn’t the kind of girl to mess with—that he’d tried to keep his distance.

But then she bit him.

And now, patience be damned.

He didn’t want to be a gentleman. He wanted to kiss her. Touch her. Take her.

Claim her.

“Fortune?”

“Elliot Vance, where did you go?”

“Fortune?”

The moment she heard Shawn Rayne and Abu calling her name from outside, Clara snapped back to herself. Reality rushed in like a slap.

Her uniform was undone—buttons popped open, her blouse shoved up—and Elliot’s hand was still palming her breast, fingers moving with infuriating deliberation.

“Elliot, stop—” she gasped, pressing her hand down on his, trying to force it away.

With a click, Elliot turned on the dim overhead light. His eyes glowed red beneath the shadows, pupils blown wide. He was no longer the calm, composed gentleman everyone saw.

His arousal was painfully obvious—the bulge in his pants pushed hard against the curve of her inner thigh, separated by nothing more than thin layers of fabric.

“I gave you a chance,” he said, voice low and rough, every word thick with heat. “You turned it down.”

His gaze dropped to her chest—her black bra barely containing the swell of her breasts, the deep line of cleavage teasing him. He’d felt how full she was when he’d grabbed her—soft, heavy, more than enough to drive a man insane.

Fingers firm on her chin, Elliot tilted her face up, his eyes devouring the way desire still lingered across her features, flushed and trembling. His voice dropped into a dangerous murmur.

“Don’t you dare tell me you didn’t want this.”

“You were the one grinding on me like a b***h in heat, Clara Hayes.”

He used her full name. The way it rolled off his tongue struck fear into her chest. Her eyes widened—startled, ashamed—and she tried to slip off the table, to escape.

But he moved faster.

His hand shot out, clamping around her neck, not enough to choke, but enough to dominate. His expression turned dark, dangerous.

“Move again, and I’ll f**k you right now.”

Not make love. f**k.

There was no pretense left. He wasn't interested in pretending to be a gentleman anymore—not with her.

“I’m not a gentleman,” he growled, dragging her back into his chest with one strong arm. He ground his hips into her, making her feel exactly how hard he was for her, how close he was to breaking.

“I wanted to f**k you that night I helped you fix your damn computer,” he hissed. “But I held back—because you were the girl Shawn liked. I’ve been fighting it every damn day since. Fighting you. Your teasing. Your flirting. Your games.”

“You started this fire,” he breathed against her ear, “so now you better put it out.”

He released her neck, his other hand already tugging at his belt with one sharp motion. The sound of leather sliding free echoed like a gunshot in the confined space. His trousers and boxers were yanked down in one motion, and then—

His c**k sprang free. Thick, long, veined—the head flushed with need, standing heavy and proud.

“You don’t want me to f**k you?” he said coldly. “Then get on your knees and suck it out of me.”

Clara’s eyes widened in horror. One glance was enough to send a bolt of panic through her—he was huge. Her throat closed up with fear. She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head frantically.

“I’ll… I’ll find you someone else,” she said, desperate. “I know the madam at the KTV lounge on Main Street. She has girls. Pretty ones. Clean. They know what they’re doing—good at it, even. I’ll—”

She stopped the moment she saw the fury in his eyes. She’d said the wrong thing. Very wrong.

She pointed quickly to the shelf behind him. “My phone—it’s right there. Let me call her for you. Right now. Please.”

She was smart. Smart enough to know what killed a man’s desire faster than anything: offering to replace herself. Smart enough to stall for an escape.

But in doing so, she’d touched a nerve Elliot didn’t even know he had.

He stepped back and sneered. “You think I’ll f**k just any woman?” Disgust curled his lip. He yanked his pants back up and fastened the belt with a snap. “Get dressed. Now. And get out of my sight.”

Clara knew she’d pushed too far, but it was the only way she could get out. Silently, she reached for her blouse and began redoing the buttons with shaking fingers.

Behind her, the sharp flick of a lighter cut through the silence. She turned her head and saw Elliot lighting a cigarette, lips curled around it like sin itself.

God, he looked good smoking.

She hated that part of her brain—the one that kept admiring him even after what just happened. She shook her head hard, trying to clear it, force herself back into reality.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. Then louder, more formally: “I sincerely apologize for everything. I shouldn’t have flirted with you. I shouldn’t have teased you. That was… irresponsible. I was wrong.”

He exhaled slowly, a curl of smoke drifting between them.

“Get out,” he said, voice eerily calm. His eyes were glacial.

He didn’t want to speak to her. Didn’t even want to look at her.

Clara stepped past him toward the shelf, her fingers brushing against his arm as she retrieved her phone. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“Thank me for what?” His voice was dripping with sarcasm. “For not f*****g you?”

Her heart sank. Yeah, she deserved that.

She looked down, then back at him. Her voice was quiet, thoughtful.

“You wouldn’t have done it,” she said. “Even if I hadn’t said anything to piss you off. You wouldn’t have gone through with it.”

The fire inside her had burned itself out. Elliot’s breathing was normal now, his sharpness softened, his eyes focused again. He’d come back to himself.

And the truth hit him. He hadn’t really planned to take her. Pulling his pants down—exposing himself—wasn’t about s*x. It was about control. A warning.

If he hadn’t done that, she wouldn’t have backed off. Would’ve kept pushing. Kept playing.

But if he really wanted her… if he really meant it… he could’ve shut her up with another kiss. Pinned her beneath him and slid inside.

Because he knew—he knew—from the way she kissed him back, from how her hips moved, how her thighs clenched around him… that she wanted it too.

He took one last drag of his cigarette and blew a slow ring of smoke.

“Try teasing me again,” he said darkly. “See if I give you another chance to walk away.”