Gilded Desires

Chapter 16: Fortune Inn - Kinks

Since meeting Elliot Vance, Clara Hayes had never blushed this hard.

She lay slumped against his shoulder, too embarrassed to even lift her head.

He had only teased her c**t with his fingers—just a light touch—yet she’d climaxed.

And not just a climax… she had squirted.

In that moment, she felt like a man who’d embarrassingly finished too soon—before even getting inside.

Elliot Vance's fingers still lingered between her legs. He’d felt the sharp contraction as she came and guessed she’d finished. His hand moved down, and was met with heat—thick, wet heat.

He understood her bashfulness, so he turned his head and pressed a soft kiss to her neck, as if offering quiet reassurance.

It was that post-orgasm tenderness that always unraveled Clara the most.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, slowly turning her head in search of his lips. Their mouths met again, unhurried but deep.

Elliot kissed her with unhurried sweetness, withdrawing his hand and bringing his soaked fingers to her lips.

Clara parted her lips without thinking and took them in.

This kind of decadent, dirty little indulgence? It was her favorite.

Her silky tongue swirled around his fingertips, and Elliot watched her intently, fascinated by the way she suckled them with practiced ease. His fingers played slow circles on her tongue, while his other hand brushed back a lock of hair clinging to her cheek, tucking it neatly behind her ear—wanting to better see the rare seduction in her face.

“I… I can’t…” Clara murmured, shaking her head and collapsing back into his chest, surrendering. “We’ve known each other for less than twenty days. It still feels too soon. I don’t know what kind of kinks you’re into… I’m not ready to go all in yet.”

She wasn’t playing coy like some women do—pretending to be pure and untouched while secretly knowing the game. She laid it bare: she wasn’t comfortable enough with him yet, and that was why she couldn’t fully let go.

That kind of honesty?

It was exactly what Elliot Vance wanted.

⋯

Ten minutes later.

Clara stepped out of the car, holding a few crumpled tissues in her hand.

To save her from further embarrassment, Elliot had stepped out earlier, giving her space and time to clean herself up. The inside of her thighs had been sticky and soaked, to the point where her underwear was completely drenched.

Elliot watched her emerge, then stubbed out his cigarette. He walked over, took the damp tissue from her clenched hand—sweaty from her nervous grip—and tossed it into the bin nearby.

The cool air helped clear Clara’s head.

Shawn Rayne had mentioned things at the company weren’t going well, and Elliot had gone into the city to meet with partners. Judging by the silence in his return and his strange mood… Clara could guess the outcome hadn’t been good.

“Wanna have some wedding candy?” she asked lightly, pulling out a bright red box from her bag. She untied the bow, unwrapped a piece of candy, and held it to his lips. “Might bring a little luck.”

He resisted at first, but eventually opened his mouth. She smiled as she fed it to him, launching into the story behind it:

“It’s from the cleaning lady’s son’s wedding—you know, the one who wipes down the terrace every day? Chubby and super sweet? Her son just got married today. Graduated from a top university, got a job at a tech firm in Rivermere. His wife’s local too.”

She kept her voice soft as she talked about the wedding, describing the people, the joy, the warmth.

Elliot’s expression softened as he listened. The tension in his brow slowly eased. He leaned back against the car, letting her voice surround him.

“I think,” Clara said, switching gears, “sometimes life’s supposed to have a little hardship. If it’s all smooth sailing, it gets boring fast.”

“Like when I play parkour games—I love the hard levels. Fail once? Try again. Fail twice? Still go again. Some levels I’ve played more than twenty times just to figure out the trick.”

Elliot asked, “Did you ever beat them?”

Seriously? That’s what he took from that?

“Why does everything have to be about winning?” she asked, slightly annoyed. “Isn’t the thrill in the challenge? The adrenaline when you’re trying to get through?”

“I want both—the thrill and the win.” Elliot walked over to the car’s trunk and pulled out his suitcase. She was still pondering his words when he locked the car and shoved the keys into his pocket. “I don’t need life advice.”

And just like that, he turned and walked toward town.

Clara jogged to catch up, pouting a little. “It wasn’t life advice! I just didn’t want you to keep bottling everything up. And everything I said was true!”

As they neared the commercial street, she spotted a few shopkeepers locking up for the night. She immediately fell silent and kept a safe distance from him.

Familiar faces kept passing by. Even though Clara wasn’t a native, she’d been living in town for almost five years. Everyone knew her.

She was tactful, helpful, and warm-hearted. Whenever there was a wedding or a funeral, she was always there to lend a hand or drop off a gift. When Fortune Inn was full, she’d help refer guests to other inns in town. People loved her.

Elliot kept hearing her greet people along the way. They all responded with equal warmth, calling her "Fortune."

Once they turned onto a quieter street, he finally asked, “Why do people call you Fortune Hayes?”

“You don’t know?” She smiled. “It’s from the Fortune Inn tradition. Since the inn was built thirty years ago, every housekeeper had to adopt the name ‘Fortune’—it’s part of the immersive guest experience. We all keep our real last name and just add ‘Fortune’ as a title.”

“The housekeeper before me was called Nalan Fortune,” she added, tilting her face up toward his. “Nice name, huh?”

“Not as nice as yours,” Elliot replied, eyes forward, still walking with the suitcase in hand.

It was always those throwaway compliments—those seemingly unintentional affirmations—that got to Clara the most.

She chased after him, nudging him. “What about my real name? Do you think it sounds good?”

“How do you know I know your real name?” Elliot shot back.

“You’re my boss!” she suddenly remembered, smacking her forehead. “Can’t believe I forgot that. You’re literally the one paying my salary every month.”

“You talk too much.”

She pouted again. “Only ‘cause I want to make you smile.”

Elliot stopped walking and turned to look at her. “You don’t have to impress me. Just be yourself.”

“But when I like someone, I want to please them,” she muttered. “Like just now, in the car—you made me come, but I didn’t do anything for you. I feel kinda guilty.”

“Come to my room tonight.”

“…” Clara froze.

He smirked when he saw the look on her face—wide-eyed, stunned into silence.

He kept walking, suitcase in tow. When he didn’t hear her footsteps, he turned back to see her still stuck in place, brows furrowed in distress.

“I’m joking,” he said with a chuckle. “Come on.”

But when Clara caught up, she muttered in mock-annoyance, “Stop teasing me. My panties are still wet.”