Chapter 19: Cora

When Cora had had enoughof the celebration, she should have gone to bed. She announced she was going to bed. The girls had hugged her goodnight. Foster had looked her in the eye and told her he'd be in later—by which he meant, after he'd flirted his ass off with Lainey.

Only, Cora didn't quite make it to the bedroom.

She'd taken the halls slow because there really wasn't all that far to go and she'd wanted to sulk before anyone saw her. She wasn't supposed to be the sulky one so she often tried her best to do everyone a favor and only sulk in private. But, just like she kept getting reminded, there was nothing private in this manor.

Like some divine being had ordered him, Carter rounded the corner in front of Cora, striding—stalking?—towards her. He stopped, though, before he reached her and instead gestured to the door beside them.

She smirked. "We're doing this again?"

"Get in the diary room, Cora."

She obeyed, but only because it sort of thrilled her to do it. To find out what came next. She took her usual spot on the loveseat and Carter took his, beside the controls. The way he turned off the audio this time felt important. Significant. This time, no one was here to simply get her thoughts on the events of the evening or the challenge.

"I wish I'd never listened to your bloody fucking advice," he snarled at her.

Cora smiled because this was already fun, the beginning notes of their banter already overpowering her disappointment. "I thought ‘bloody' was supposed to replace the cursing. I don't think it's doing its job if you're using both anyway."

"Are you actually trying to school me on British slang?"

She shrugged. "Why do you wish you hadn't listened to me? I thought the challenge went pretty well." For everyone but her. "Everybody got to stay in the manor but there was still a lot of tension in guessing the right partners. Plus, I saw the way those cameras were working. I'm positive you've got yourself a nice little segment."

"I don't care about the cameras. I don't care about any of that shit."

"You cared a week ago, when I found you crying outside."

"I wasn't crying."

"On the verge," she allowed.

"On the verge isn't crying."

"It's close enough." She leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees. "Why don't you care about any of that?"

"Because all I could think about, the whole goddamn time, was how much I hated any of them kissing you."

She itched to fan herself—maybe swoon if she had any idea what swooning actually looked like. Did this guy just have a list of everything she wanted to hear? She fancied herself a modern woman of sorts, usually. She understood the inherent issues with possessiveness and jealousy and the treatment of women like chattel. But, goddammit, did she love being wanted enough to turn a man into this primal creature. She loved the rush of power it gave her, to reduce someone to their basest want. She didn't mind if he got a little mean, a little rough, because the driving force behind it was so fucking pure.

And who could blame her if she wanted to play with that, just a bit?

"You want a turn?" she asked him.

"Of course, I want a fucking turn." Carter shook his head, like he couldn't believe she'd had the gall to ask. "I don't know if you remember, but your ass is mine. Seeing the rest of them paw at it? I?—"

"No one pawed at my ass," she reminded him kindly. "They weren't allowed to touch me."

"Cora," he groaned.

"What? I'm being helpful."

"You're being a brat."

Cora raised an eyebrow. "Do something about it, then. You don't want anyone else to touch me? Come touch me yourself."

Carter's head fell back against the wall, banging harshly. "I can't."

"You won't."

"I can't."

"You—"

"Take out your tits."

She stilled. Well, she thought, this was quite the development.

Unsure she understood, she said, "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," he taunted. "Take out your fucking tits."

Now this—this—was a language Cora knew how to speak. Even if it pushed her mood just north of sadness, knowing that he wouldn't give himself what he wanted. What they both wanted.

The problem with wanting a man to turn into an animal was that sometimes they remembered they were human. And Carter's little glances at the screen beside him was that pesky little reminder tonight.

Maybe her face was, too, the way he read that dip in her countenance. Because then Carter was shaking his head and raising his finger towards that cursed button again. Saying, "I shouldn't have asked." Repeating it, like he was admonishing himself.

Feeling she'd lost her control in the situation, Cora took it back the only way she knew how.

As she reached behind her to undo the corset-like laces of her top, she was glad she'd opted for a two-piece number. With it, she got to do exactly what he wanted without losing the utter sum of her dignity. If she decided to take out everything, not just her tits, she could do it at her own pace.

Carter watched her, his finger still hovering around that button.

Let him turn it on, she thought. I'm not stopping.

Cora wouldn't call her boobs spectacular. They weren't like Eloise's or even Willow's. But she thought they complemented her figure well. She liked how they looked in her clothes, how they rested, full and pretty when she sat back.

If she had to guess, she'd say that Carter liked them, too. His hand flexed, that finger dropping in favor of clenching and unclenching his fists at his sides. He didn't give her open-mouthed awe. He wasn't stupefied by the sight of her but she almost liked it that way. Because, instead, he looked upon her with a pained hunger. Like she'd committed some cardinal sin by obeying him and he couldn't work out if he regretted his demand.

If he were going to regret it anyway, Cora might as well let him pile on more.

"What now?"

Her question, though, only knocked him from his trance, and he relaxed against the wall. His arms crossed over his chest but she could still see how his veins pulsed.

Coldly, he ordered, "Play with them."

"Are you going to fuck your own hand to this footage later?" she asked.

"Yes," he answered. "Right before I delete it."

"I imagine you're not supposed to do that."

He wanted to roll his eyes, she could tell. But he didn't. He didn't break that stare and she suspected he wouldn't for anything. "Just play with your fucking tits for me."

Something made her wait, though she couldn't pin down exactly what it was. The obvious answer was that she didn't want to do this on camera. The more she thought about it, however, she realized she didn't really care if the camera was there or not. On or off. She trusted Carter to protect that footage, even from his own employees.

Perhaps it was that feeling of dejected hopelessness, again. That she wasn't quite enough. Not enough to make a man stay with her. Not enough to interest any of the other contestants. Not even enough to make this man break the rules for her, fully.

"You need me to tell you how to do it?"

Or, maybe, it was that. Maybe she was just waiting for him to truly voice his desire, both taking total control and giving it all to her. She waited, still, this time just to see if he would.

"Cup them. Let me see how heavy they are."

She did. And because she was still herself, she put a little bit of gravitas into the act. Dragging her hands up after she'd cupped the flesh, pressing her breasts against her chest before releasing them. Letting them drop and bounce and then doing it again.

"Roll your nipples between your fingers."

This time, when she touched, she kept her fingers open, letting her nipples peek out between them before closing the gap and shifting up and down to mimic the motion Carter'd required.

"Do it again but let me see this time."

So maybe he wasn't a fan of the liberties she'd been taking. She did as he directed, letting only her thumb and the tip of her index roll over the stiff flesh.

"Pinch them," Carter demanded. He scoffed when she did. "Pinch them how you'd want me to."

Without thought, Cora strengthened her hold, twisting and lifting. He might think she arched her back to follow the movement but, really, the rest of her body was unknown to her at that moment. She was not in charge of the way she shivered, the way her toes curled or her thighs pressed against one another.

Carter noticed, though, and he was in charge.

"Spread your legs, Cora."

She splayed herself wide open for him, the tight fabric of her skirt bunching immediately up around her waist. Carter spared her only a pitying look when he took in the wet spot on the gusset of her panties. They were tiny things, really. Just a collection of strings held together in the middle by a patch of thin cotton. They did nothing to hide her ass and did precious little to hide her pussy, considering they were moments from cutting through her slit like floss.

"Playing with your tits makes you wet, does it?" he asked.

It wasn't a question Cora felt obligated to answer, mostly because the answer was somewhat complex. Yes, this kind of touch did get her wet, usually. But the flood happening currently in that region had much more to do with the man in front of her, the way he spoke to her and commanded her.

The shrewd way he was watching her.

So she told him as simply as she could. "You make me wet."

"Take those off."

This, too, wasn't exactly simple. Cora hadn't been exaggerating when she'd referred to them as a collection of strings. Those strings crissed and crossed and trailed up her hips to her waist. She stood, reaching behind her for the zipper of the skirt that was still currently functioning as a belt. She allowed that to drop to the floor.

When she tucked her thumbs into the top strings to pull down the panties, though, Carter stopped her. Ordered her to turn around. He didn't bother to tell her why and Cora supposed she knew, really. So she did. But before they could drop to the floor next to her skirt, Carter was insisting she hand them to him.

She stood, naked and watching, as he folded them neatly and tucked them into his pocket. And he must have made inadvertent contact with the wet spot because he brought his fingers to his mouth and maintained eye contact with Cora while he sucked.

Having had his fill, apparently—or maybe it was just that he'd sucked those fingers clean—he ordered her to sit down. "Just as you were," he added.

There was no hiding it anymore. Cora was on display for him. Prepared for a feast he wouldn't partake in.

"Spread yourself for me."

This time, he didn't just mean her legs. She trailed her fingers down from her breasts, where they'd been poised for more pinching commands. When they reached their destination, Cora lifted and spread, exposing the entirety of that glistening pink skin. She angled her head down, trying to see what he saw, and it was vulgar and dirty and so fucking hot. They both bore witness to squeezing of her channel as it attempted to clench around nothing.

Cora shuddered and Carter rumbled out a laugh. "Are you imagining me in there, Cora? Are you thinking about what my cum would look like, dripping out of it?"

Well, now she certainly was. And the thought made her whimper.

"Let me hear that again. But this time, rub your clit." Using her other hand, she brushed two of her fingers over the nub. Before she could even conceive of another whimper, Carter was tsking. "In circles."

Normally, that was how Cora might have done it, if her goal was just to get herself off. She'd move in quick little circles directly over her clit and, if she were in the right mood, could climax in minutes. Cora didn't want to speed run through this, though. So the circles she made were leisurely. Barely any pressure.

She met Carter's glare with a startle. "Harder," he snapped. "Fuck yourself like I would."

Wasn't that the issue?

Cora didn't know how Carter would fuck her because he wouldn't step out from behind his camera and do it. She'd imagined it, though. Had an idea.

She thought of her fingers as his when she resumed. Played with teasing strokes, alternating them with rapid revolutions on and around her clit.

"That's right," Carter murmured. The softest he'd sounded since they'd entered the room. Since she'd known him, maybe. "Now put some fingers in your cunt."

She was breathy when she asked, "How many?"

He smirked. "Two."

She was careful not to scrape herself with the tips of her nails but she let no more time pass before she inserted her two middle fingers inside herself, the angle of it dragging the meat of her palm against her clit.

"Hook them. Press them against that wall, Cora, and pump."

She moaned. She couldn't help it, but she moaned. It was hard to tell if she was moaning his name or moaning curses or just making unintelligible noises because her nerves were lighting up. Her spine arched, sending her head back into the mass of pillows behind her, her tits straight up in the air.

"Keep going."

Like she could fucking stop. God, she wished—she wished?—

"You wish that were me, don't you?"

Cora felt like she was running a marathon, keeping up this pace, but Carter had her so keyed up, so close. And he hadn't even touched her.

"Make sure it's my name you scream when you come."

She did. It was like that was the last thing she needed to detonate. The promise that she was doing it for him. It was a performance for Carter and Carter alone.

When she was able to look at him again, he hadn't moved. He was still leaning against that wall. His feet were still crossed casually in front of him. The only discernible difference, to an eye that wasn't really looking, was the slight tent in the front of his pants.

Cora saw the minute tremble. The barely-maintained resistance. She resolved to test him, just one more time, and she stood, panting as she took a step toward him.

"Your turn," she tried to say.

Carter did not pass her test. Or maybe he did, depending on whose standards one looked at. Either way, Carter did not take the turn she offered him. Instead, he pushed himself from the wall and dropped his arms. Stepped in front of the camera, so close she thought his back might've blacked the room out, if it weren't for the other devices she was sure were hidden.

He said nothing, only shook his head and left Cora to get dressed on her own.