Page 40 of Crawl for Me

The noise swells back around me all at once, the low thrum of the jazz trio bleeding back into focus, conversations colliding from every corner, servers weaving between tables, Liam going off about his whiskey stash on one side of me, Sam firing another joke that sets their side off in brazen laughter.

I glance sideways. Sable’s sipping her wine, eyes bright, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.

People start rising, chairs scraping back, drifting into looser knots of chatter around the room. The energy hums, wine warm in everyone’s veins. I open my mouth, ready to say something—anything—but Sam hooks an arm through hers, pulling her up from her chair, and Eleanor follows, the three of them slipping off into the crowd before I can move.

No, she can’t go like that.

I push up from my chair, ready to follow, when a heavy hand lands between my shoulder blades. “Noah!”

I turn, and there’s Simon from Cos, grinning like we’re old pals, hand thrust out, two more suits flanking him with eager nods. “Come meet my team.”

The trap snaps shut before I can dodge it. They sweep me into their circle, and suddenly I’m shaking hands, smiling on autopilot, nodding at names I’ll forget before the wine in my glass runs out. Voices blur, cards exchange hands, questions fire—“What’s your background? How are you finding the transition?”—and I answer like a good little account lead, polished and presentable.

She’s there, just beyond reach, dark silk cutting low across her back as she moves with Sam and Eleanor into the throng. The light catching the line of her spine, each step pulling her further into the swell of sequins and glassware until the crowd swallows her whole.

And I’m pinned here, choking on pleasantries, when all I can think about is how one more stroke—just one—would’ve had me humiliating myself in front of a room of clients and colleagues.

Chapter 15

Sable

Sable

Back corridor off the restrooms. Come find me. Ten minutes.

The corridor is dim, tucked behind the restrooms where no one has a reason to pass—unless they’re lost or sneaking out. Lit only by the dull red glow of the EXIT sign and a flickering overhead bulb. From the bar, laughter and music bleed through the walls, muffled and distant. I lean back against the wall, arms crossed, every nerve keyed up, waiting for the sound of his footsteps.

They come, soft and quick. He rounds the corner, a little breathless, like he ran here. “Sable…” he says, gaze dragging hungrily over me, from the hem of my dress to the fall of my hair over my shoulders.

My fist closes around his tie, yanking him in until the space between us collapses. “Was wondering if you’d show,” I murmur.

“That—fuck, Sable—” His voice cracks. “I almost—I mean, I thought I was gonna—” He cuts himself off with a rough laugh. “That nearly killed me. I’ve never—Christ, I’ve never had anyone do that to me.”

I fist his tie and drag him lower until my lips brush the shell of his ear. My voice is a whisper, sweet as poison. “I almost had you painting the inside of your slacks in front of all those people.”

“God—please, Sable. I’m desperate. Please.”

A hum curls up my throat. I nip down the line of his jaw, slow deliberate bites, savoring the way his breath stumbles ragged with every scrape of my teeth. His hands fly to my hips, clutching hard at the silk, fingers digging into the flesh.

My palm trails lower, lower, until I press it against the thick line of him through his slacks. His head falls to my shoulder with a guttural groan, muffled against my skin as his hips buck helplessly into the contact.

“If it’s too much, tap my wrist twice and I stop. Clear?”

He nods frantically. “Clear.”

“Good. Now, tell me,” I whisper, breath grazing his ear. “Tell me what you want to do to me.”

“Sable—fuck, please⁠—”

“Say it.” I dig my nails into his hip for emphasis. “Or I’ll walk away right now.”

He freezes. I can see the war of it in his eyes—panic and want—like the words are burning a hole in his throat and he can’t decide whether to choke on them or let them loose. His jaw works, teeth grinding, his whole body trembling under the weight of silence.

But all I have to do is raise one brow, and the dam breaks.

“Shit—Sable—I’d… God, I’d crawl under your skirt and never come back out. I’d lick your pussy until my jaw locked—I don’t care—I’d keep going. I’d drink you down until my throat burned and still beg for more. I want you on my face—please, fuck—I want you grinding me into the floor until I can’t breathe. I’d let you ride me until I’m choking on you, until I’m soaked, until I can’t even think my own name. Christ, I—” His voice fractures, hips jerking against my hand. “I don’t—fuck—I don’t care if I suffocate. I just want you to ruin me. Right here. Right now. Please.”

The words hit me like a match to dry skin, a gasp ripping out of me. Heat floods low in my stomach, wetness pooling fast between my thighs. If he keeps talking like that, I might let him. I might drag him down to his knees right here under the EXIT sign.