The conference hotel bathroom smelled like lemon cleaner and someone's expensive perfume that had gone stale hours ago. I'd been in and out of these rooms all afternoon, shaking hands, nodding at balance sheets, pretending I understood the difference between series A and series B funding. The marble counter was cold against my palms as I leaned over the sink, checking my tie in the mirror, wondering if I looked like a man who belonged here or a kid who'd snuck in through the service entrance.

Then the door opened behind me, and I saw Kara in the glass.

She'd been working the room for three hours in that fitted navy dress, the one that hit just above the knee and hugged every curve like it had been sewn onto her. Her dark bob was slightly disheveled now, a strand falling across her forehead, and her brown eyes had that bright, slightly manic look of someone who'd been charming strangers for too long. She closed the door behind her, and the latch clicked with a sound that felt louder than it should have.

"There you are," she said, leaning against the door. "I've been looking everywhere."

"Had to escape. Some guy named Gerald from Pittsburgh wanted to tell me about his golf handicap." I turned on the tap, let the water run over my hands. "I've never cared less about anything in my life."

She laughed, that low, warm sound I'd heard across the gallery that night. "Gerald's worth eight figures. You should care."

"He's also got a photo of his wife in his wallet that he showed me. Twice." I dried my hands on a paper towel, watching her in the mirror. "I think he wanted me to invest in her."

Kara pushed off the door, walking toward me with that dancer's grace, her hips swaying just enough to make the dress move. "You're terrible at this."

"I'm excellent at this. I've closed three deals today."

"With my help."

"With your help," I agreed. "You've been very useful."

She stopped beside me at the counter, close enough that I could smell her perfume—something floral, light, nothing like the stale scent in the air. She met my eyes in the mirror, and for a moment neither of us said anything. The muffled noise of the ballroom drifted through the door, the clink of glasses, the low murmur of a hundred conversations, all of it distant and unimportant.

"Ethan's here," she said finally.

"I know."

"He's been watching us all afternoon."

"I know."

She turned to face me, her hand finding my wrist, her thumb pressing against my pulse. "He said you promised."

"I did."

"You promised you wouldn't touch me."

"I promised him I wouldn't touch you." I looked down at her hand on my wrist, then back up at her face. "I didn't promise you anything."

Her lips parted slightly, and I saw the answer in her eyes before she said it. "You're going to break your word."

"I'm going to break my word," I confirmed. "Unless you want me to stop."

She didn't say stop. She said, "He's going to see us."

"He's going to see us," I agreed. "That's the point, isn't it?"

I turned her around, my hands on her hips, guiding her to face the counter. She went willingly, her palms flat on the marble, her reflection in the mirror showing me everything. Her eyes were wide, her cheeks flushed, her chest rising and falling with quick, shallow breaths. The fitted dress was stretched taut across her ass, and I could see the outline of her panties beneath the fabric.

I reached down and rucked the hem up, gathering the navy material around her waist. She wasn't wearing much underneath—just a thin strip of black lace that disappeared between her cheeks. I traced my thumb along the edge of it, feeling the warmth of her skin through the fabric.

"You've been walking around all day in this?" I asked.

"You told me to dress for the room."

"I told you to dress for the room," I repeated. "I didn't tell you to make it easy for me."

She looked back at me over her shoulder, her brown eyes dark. "You didn't have to tell me."

I pulled the lace aside, and she wasn't dry. She was soaked, her pussy slick and swollen, her folds glistening in the fluorescent light. I ran two fingers through the wetness, and she gasped, her hips pressing back against my hand.

"Jesus, Kara." I brought my fingers to my mouth, tasting her. "You've been like this all day?"

"Every time you touched my back," she said, her voice strained. "Every time you leaned in to whisper something in my ear. Every time you introduced me as your colleague and squeezed my ass when no one was looking."

"You're a terrible liar." I undid my belt, the buckle clinking against the marble. "You were thinking about this the whole time, weren't you?"

"Yes."

"Thinking about what I'd do to you in here?"

"Yes."

I freed my cock, already hard, the head slick with pre-cum. I stroked myself once, twice, watching her in the mirror, watching her watch me. Her hand had drifted to her own breast, her fingers working the nipple through the fabric of her dress.

"You closed three deals today," I said, stepping closer, the head of my cock pressing against her entrance. "You charmed Gerald from Pittsburgh. You made some venture capitalist from Boston forget his own name. You were the best goddamn asset I had in that room."

"Xavier—"

"And every single one of those men wanted you." I pushed forward, just the head, and she gasped, her hands gripping the edge of the counter. "They wanted to take you home. They wanted to see what you looked like out of that dress."

I thrust deeper, and she moaned, her head dropping forward. "Fuck."

"But they didn't get to." I pulled out almost all the way, then slammed back in, and the sound of it—wet, obscene, echoing off the tile—made her whimper. "Because you're not theirs. You're mine. For today, you're mine."

"Xavier."

"And your husband is out there, watching the door, wondering where you are." I fucked her slow, deep, each thrust pushing her forward against the counter. "Wondering if I'm keeping my promise."

She looked up at the mirror, her eyes finding mine. "You're not."

"I'm not," I agreed. "I'm breaking it right now. I'm breaking it with my cock inside your pussy, and I'm going to break it again when I come inside you."

She moaned, her hips pushing back to meet me, and I felt her clench around me. "God, yes."

The mirror showed me everything—her face flushed, her mouth open, her dress bunched around her waist. The cool marble pressed against her front, and I could see the way her nipples were hard against the fabric of her dress, the way her thighs trembled with every thrust.

I reached around and found her clit, swollen and slick, and she cried out, her hand flying back to grip my hip. "Fuck, Xavier."

"You were so good out there," I said, my voice rough in her ear. "So fucking good. Every man in that room wanted you, and you smiled at them, you laughed at their jokes, you touched their arms like you cared."

"I didn't—"

"You didn't care," I finished for her. "You were thinking about this. Weren't you?"

"Yes."

"Thinking about my cock inside you?"

"Yes."

I thrust harder, faster, the slap of my hips against her ass echoing off the tile. "Thinking about Ethan watching us?"

She gasped, her hands scrabbling on the marble. "Fuck."

"Because he's going to watch us, Kara. He's going to see the video of me coming inside you, and he's going to know exactly what I did to his wife in this bathroom."

She was close, I could feel it, the way her cunt gripped me, the way her breath came in short, sharp gasps. "Please."

"Please what?"

"Please don't stop."

I didn't stop. I drove into her, deep and hard, my fingers working her clit, and I watched her in the mirror, watched her face contort with pleasure, watched her mouth open in a silent scream as she came, her body shuddering against me.

"That's it," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "That's it, Kara. Let go."

She did, her cunt clenching around me, milking me, and I held myself there, buried deep inside her, feeling the waves of her orgasm ripple through her body. The room was quiet except for her breathing, ragged and desperate, and the distant hum of the ballroom beyond the door.

I waited until she was still, until her body stopped trembling, and then I pulled out just enough to stay inside her, my hand flat on her lower back, feeling the heat of her skin through the fabric of her dress.

"You're still in me," she said, her voice hoarse.

"I know."

"You're not done."

"I'm not done." I pushed back in, slow, and she moaned, her head dropping forward. "I told you I was going to come inside you."

"Xavier—"

"And I'm going to." I fucked her again, slow and deep, each thrust deliberate, each one pushing her closer to the edge. "I'm going to fill you up, and then your husband is going to see it."

She was wet, so wet, her pussy dripping around me, and I could feel the heat building in my own body, the pressure rising, the need to come. I reached around again, found her clit, and she gasped, her hips bucking against my hand.

"Come with me," I said. "Come with me, Kara."

She did, her body clenching around me, and I followed, my cock pulsing inside her, filling her with my cum. I held myself there, buried deep, my forehead pressed against her shoulder, my breath ragged, my hand still flat on her lower back.

The room was quiet except for our breathing. The ballroom noise was a distant hum, muffled and irrelevant. The lemon cleaner and the stale perfume and the floral scent of her shampoo all mixed together, and I breathed her in, feeling the aftershocks of her orgasm ripple through her body.

I pulled out slowly, my cock slick with our combined wetness, and I watched in the mirror as a strand of cum dripped down her inner thigh. She was still bent over the counter, her dress bunched around her waist, her hands gripping the marble, and I saw her reach for something on the counter beside her.

Her phone.

She picked it up, her fingers moving over the screen, and I saw the camera app open. She angled it down, between her legs, capturing the mess I'd made, the cum still leaking out of her, dripping down her thigh.

I watched her, still inside her, still catching my breath, and I saw her thumb hover over the screen. She looked up at me in the mirror, her brown eyes meeting mine, a small, satisfied smile playing at the corner of her lips.

Then she hit send.