Vows and Vengeance

Chapter Two- The corridor

The east corridor was dim,the music was just a low thump through the walls, and the lights were turned down so low she could barely see the gold patterns on the carpet. Carpet swallowed the sound of her heels. Elena walked like she belonged there, like she wasn’t chasing a bad idea in four-inch stilettos.

There he was standing, one shoulder against the wall. Both hands in his pockets, tie loosened up a bit like he knew exactly what he was planning. When he saw her, he kept a straight face like he was trying to look tough.

She stopped a foot away. Close enough to feel the heat coming off him.

“Changed your mind?” he asked.

“No,” she said. “Just deciding how much I’m going to make you beg.”

That earned a low laugh. “You always did have a big mouth.”

He moved first. One step and his hand was on her waist, fingers digging in, pulling her hard against him.

The other hand slid into her hair, tipping her head back so she had to look up at him.

“Tell me to stop,” he said, voice rough.

She didn’t.

One second they were standing there trading looks, the next his hand was on the back of her neck and he was kissing her like he’d been starving for it. Not soft, not sweet; hard and messy and a little angry. She kissed him back the same, grabbing his shirt to pull him closer. The fabric felt expensive under her fingers, and she hated that she noticed.

His other hand slid down to her waist, then lower, bunching the silk of her dress until his palm met bare skin. She shivered. He felt it and pressed her against the wall, thigh pushing between hers.

“Tell me to stop,” he said against her mouth, breathing hard.

She bit his bottom lip instead of answering.

He groaned and opened the nearest door (some small meeting room nobody was using). They half-fell inside. He kicked the door shut with his foot and flicked the lock.

Moonlight came through the big windows, enough to see the long table and the chairs pushed in neat rows. That was all they needed.

He picked her up like she weighed nothing and set her on the edge of the table. Her dress rode high on her thighs. She wrapped her legs around him out of habit, pulling him in. He was already hard; she could feel it through his pants, and the heat of it made her stomach flip.

“Jesus, Elena,” he muttered, hands sliding up her legs, thumbs tracing the edge of her lace panties.

She reached for his belt, fingers clumsy for once. The buckle clinked open. She tugged at his zipper. He helped, shoving his pants down just enough.

There was no talking after that. Just fast breaths and the rustle of clothes. He pushed her panties aside instead of taking them off; she didn’t care. When he finally slid into her, slow at first, then all the way, they both stopped breathing for a second.

It felt too good. Too much. Like something they should have done years ago and never admitted.

Then she rocked her hips and he started moving, deep and steady, one hand braced on the table, the other tangled in her hair. The table creaked under them. She hooked her ankles behind his back and held on

She came first, sudden and hard, burying her face in his shoulder so no one in the hallway would hear. He followed right after, hips jerking, her name muffled against her neck.

They stayed like that a minute, sweaty and shaking, still joined. She could feel his heart hammering against her chest.

He pulled out slow and stepped back, fixing his pants with hands that weren’t quite steady.

“This doesn’t change anything,” he said.

She smoothed her dress down, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and smiled like a woman who’d just won something he didn’t know about yet.

“Keep telling yourself that,” she said, and walked out without looking back.

The corridor felt colder on the way out. She didn’t fix her lipstick. She didn’t need to.

She had a vote to steal and a marriage to wreck.

One down.