Andrew's grip on my wrist tightened as he yanked me through a side door into an empty corridor. The gallery noise vanished, replaced by our harsh breathing and the click of my heels against marble.
He shoved me against the wall, his palms slamming on either side of my head, caging me like a goddamn predator with his kill.
“What the hell was that?” he growled, his voice rough, edged with something dark and primal. His eyes burned into mine, wild and unhinged, like he was seconds away from tearing my clothes off with his teeth.
I smirked, letting my lips curl into something wicked, something that stoked the fire in him even more. “That was a conversation,” I purred, my voice dripping with mockery. “I’m sure Julian behaves like that with every woman who catches his eye.”
His jaw clenched, that muscle ticking beneath his skin like a goddamn time bomb. “Are you defending him?”
I tilted my head, letting my tongue dart out to wet my lips, slow and deliberate. “Are you jealous?”
“Of course I am,” he snarled, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous rumble that sent shivers skating down my spine. “If I hadn’t pulled you away, Julian would’ve word-fucked you right there in front of everyone.”
“Fucked me?” I laughed, the sound low and throaty, dripping with challenge. “I’ve never seen you like this, Andrew. This darker edge—” I reached up, trailing my fingers along the sharp line of his jaw, “—I like it.”
Something in his gaze shifted, the anger melting into something hotter, hungrier, more feral. His eyes flicked down the empty corridor, checking for witnesses, before returning to me with a look that could’ve set the damn building on fire.
His hands left the wall, sliding down to grip my waist, fingers digging into my flesh with enough force to leave bruises. And fuck, I wanted them.
“What are you—”
But he cut me off with a brutal kiss, his mouth crushing mine with a ferocity that stole my breath. His tongue plunged between my lips like he was laying claim, marking me as his.
He wasn’t gentle, wasn’t soft—he was fucking consuming me, devouring me like a starving man. His teeth caught my bottom lip, tugging sharply, and I moaned into his mouth, the sound low and needy.
His hands slid lower, gripping my ass through my dress, lifting me off the ground as if I weighed nothing. My legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, my heels digging into the small of his back as he pinned me harder against the wall.
The kiss broke for a split second, both of us gasping for air, but he didn’t stop there. His lips trailed down my neck, teeth grazing my skin, sucking hard enough that he could leave marks.
“Andrew,” I gasped, one hand fisting in his hair, the other gripping his shoulder for balance. “Someone could—”
“Shut up,” he growled against my collarbone, his hands sliding under my dress, bunching the fabric up around my waist.
His fingers found the edge of my panties, and he didn’t hesitate—he tore them off with a sharp rip, the fabric tearing like paper. I gasped, my head falling back against the wall with a thud.
His fingers dipped between my thighs, and I was already soaking wet, ready for him.
He groaned low in his throat, the sound vibrating against my skin as he slid two fingers inside me with no fucking preamble. My breath hitched, a sharp cry escaping my lips as he curled his fingers just right, hitting that sweet spot that made my vision blur.
“You’re dripping for me,” he growled, his voice thick with lust as he worked his fingers in and out of me, slow and deliberate, driving me insane. His thumb circled my clit, rough and unrelenting, and I writhed against the wall, my hands clutching at his shoulders for support.
“Andrew, please,” I begged, my voice ragged, my body trembling with need.
“Please what?” he demanded, his lips brushing against my ear, his breath hot and uneven. “Use your words, Angie.”
I whimpered, my hips bucking against his hand, desperate for more.
“Fuck me,” I gasped, the words barely coherent. “God, please, just fucking take me.”
He let out a low, guttural noise, something between a growl and a groan, and his fingers twisted inside me, hitting that spot again and again until I was seeing stars.
His thumb pressed harder against my clit, rubbing in tight, fast circles, and I came with a cry that echoed down the hallway, my body shaking, my muscles clenching around his fingers.
But he didn’t stop. He kept going, his fingers relentless, his mouth on my neck, sucking as I shuddered through the waves of pleasure.
“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice rough, “take it, Angie. Take what I give you.”
I was panting, trembling, my legs barely holding me up as he finally slowed, his fingers gently easing out of me. He brought them to his mouth, licking them clean with a dark, filthy grin that made my stomach flip.
“You taste perfect,” he growled, his eyes locked on mine. “Now let’s see if I can make you come again.”
And fuck me, he did.
When we finally broke apart, Andrew's chest heaved. "I can't remember when you were this alive. You've been driving me insane all week."
I noticed him adjusting his suit jacket, trying to compose himself for the return to the gallery. I could help him regain control, but I chose not to. Let him suffer through the rest of the evening.
"We should go back." I smoothed my dress, checking my reflection in the corridor's mirror. My lipstick was destroyed, my hair slightly mussed—perfect.
"Angie—"
I pressed a finger to his lips. "This is only the beginning. I've thought of something else."
His eyes darkened. "What?"
"Later." I took his hand, leading him back toward the gallery. "Let's give them something to gossip about."
We re-entered the gallery together, my hand in his, both of us looking thoroughly disheveled. Conversations paused as we passed. Knowing smiles flickered across faces. Julian, holding court near his masterpiece, caught my eye and raised his champagne glass in a mock toast.
Andrew's grip tightened. "I want to leave."
"Then we leave."
The ride home crackled with tension. Andrew's hands couldn't stay still—drumming on his thigh, adjusting his tie, reaching for me then pulling back. The driver kept his eyes carefully on the road.
Inside our apartment, Andrew pressed me against the closed door. "That was torture. The whole evening after the corridor—torture."
"Good." I pushed him back, creating space between us. "But I'll only continue if we agree on something."
He bristled, impatience burning in his eyes. "On what?"
"Hannah." I moved to the bar, pouring myself a drink with deliberate slowness. "She becomes ours. Not yours, not mine—ours. A shared arrangement."
His eyes lit with happiness so pure it almost made me laugh. "You mean—"
"I want what you want." I sipped my drink, watching him process this gift I was offering. "The painting you made—that fantasy? We make it real. But on my terms."
"Yes." The word exploded from him without hesitation. "Yes, absolutely. Whatever you want."
"Whatever I want?" I set down my glass, moving toward him with predatory grace. "Be careful what you promise, Andrew."
"I don't care. Yes to all of it." His hands found my waist, pulling me against him. "But right now I want only you—your teeth on my skin, your nails scratching me, my dick must be in you right now."
"Right now, you get what you've earned." I traced a finger down his chest. "Only me. Until I decide otherwise."
The bedroom door closed behind us with a click that sounded like a trap springing shut.