Chapter 62: The Double Claiming
The scent of jasmine still clung to Stephanie’s skin, a fragrant ghost of the morning’s intimacy. She paced the length of the bedroom, the memory of Veronica’s mouth on her breasts a live wire under her skin. The nurse’s visit had been efficient, clinical, a stark contrast to the raw, animalistic current that now hummed through the penthouse. Veronica, after a few hushed words with the woman, had retreated into her home office, the solid oak door clicking shut with an air of finality.
The low, muffled rhythm of Veronica’s voice, punctuated by the occasional crisp response from the speakerphone, bled through the wall. A board meeting. Stephanie recognized the tone—the cool, unassailable authority Veronica wielded like a weapon.
A slow, wicked smile touched Stephanie’s lips. The heiress knew a thing or two about disrupting proceedings.
She padded silently across the cool floor, not to the door, but to the interconnecting panel Veronica had shown her. With a soft press, the wooden partition slid sideways, revealing a shadowed alcove directly behind Veronica’s chair. The CEO sat framed by the floor-to-ceiling window, her back to the hidden entrance, a silhouette of power against the sprawling city.
“The projections are insufficient, David,” Veronica stated, her voice like polished stone. “I need recalibrated numbers on my desk by noon, or we’re tabling the merger.”
Stephanie moved like smoke. She emerged from the alcove and sank to her knees between Veronica’s legs before the woman could even register a shift in the air. Veronica stiffened, her shoulders tightening beneath the silk of her blouse. One hand, resting on the chair’s arm, began to rise, a silent, dismissive gesture to push her away.
Stephanie didn’t budge. Instead, she grasped Veronica’s wrists, her own grip surprisingly firm, and pinned them to the arms of the leather chair. She looked up, meeting the shocked, fiery green gaze that glanced over a shoulder. A silent challenge passed between them. Stephanie’s eyes, usually so wide and innocent, held a dark, knowing glint.
“Is there a problem, Veronica?” a voice crackled from the speaker.
Veronica’s jaw tightened. She stared down at Stephanie, at the defiant curve of her mouth. “No,” she managed, her voice strained. “A… momentary distraction. Continue.”
While the voices droned on about equity shares and leveraged buyouts, Stephanie’s hands went to work. She pushed the expensive wool of Veronica’s slacks up her calves, then hooked her fingers into the waistband of her lace panties. Veronica’s breath hitched, a sharp, audible intake. She tried to close her legs, a reflexive act of control, but Stephanie was already there, her shoulders forcing them apart.
The lace tore with a faint, satisfying rip.
Stephanie didn’t hesitate. She buried her face between Veronica’s thighs, her tongue finding its target with unerring accuracy. She licked a long, slow stripe through the damp, curly hair, savoring the musky, intimate flavor that was uniquely Veronica.
A choked, guttural moan escaped Veronica’s lips. Her head fell back against the headrest, a tremor running through her entire body. On the desk, her fingers curled into white-knuckled fists.
“Veronica? Was that you?” David’s voice asked, tinny and concerned.
“Y-yes,” she gasped, struggling to compose her voice into its usual authoritative timbre. “A draft. Just closed the window.”
It was a pathetic lie, and they both knew it. Emboldened, Stephanie dove back in. She used her tongue like a weapon of pure pleasure, licking and sucking at Veronica’s clit with a focused, relentless rhythm. She fucked her with her tongue, deep and slow, then circled the swollen nub with frantic, dizzying speed. She could feel the tension coiling in Veronica’s thighs, could hear the ragged, suppressed breaths that were a symphony to her.
Veronica’s hips began to move of their own volition, a tiny, desperate rocking against Stephanie’s mouth. One of her hands broke free from the chair’s arm and tangled in Stephanie’s long brown hair, not to pull her away, but to hold her there, to grind herself harder against that devious, talented tongue.
“The… the terms are… non-negotiable,” Veronica forced out, her voice cracking on the last word.
Stephanie redoubled her efforts. She sucked the stiff, throbbing bud of Veronica’s clit into her mouth, applying a firm, pulsing pressure that made Veronica’s back arch clear off the chair.
“Fuck,” Veronica whispered, the word a broken prayer.
Her other hand slammed down on the console, hitting the mute button. The sudden silence in the room was broken only by the wet, obscene sounds of Stephanie’s feasting and Veronica’s ragged, escalating moans.
“Yes, right there, don’t you fucking stop,” Veronica commanded, her voice a raw, stripped-bare version of its usual self. She was coming apart, her professional facade shattering into a million pieces. “You filthy, beautiful girl. Make me come.”
That was all the encouragement Stephanie needed. She drove her tongue inside Veronica, fucking her deeply as her thumb pressed hard and circled on her clit. Veronica’s body seized. A raw, uninhibited scream tore from her throat, echoing in the soundproofed room. Her thighs clamped around Stephanie’s head, holding her in a vise-like grip as the orgasm racked her, wave after violent wave of pleasure wringing her out.
For a long moment, the only sound was their harsh, synchronized breathing. Stephanie rested her forehead against Veronica’s trembling thigh, her own body humming with power.
Slowly, Veronica’s hand came up. Her finger, slightly unsteady, pressed the mute button again.
“…Veronica? Are we clear on the deliverables?”
She took a deep, shuddering breath, her voice returning, smoothed to a veneer of calm, though a husky undercurrent remained. “Crystal, David. I expect the revised figures by noon. That’s all.”
She ended the call without another word.
The silence that followed was heavy, charged. Veronica looked down at Stephanie, who was still kneeling between her legs, her chin glistening. The vulnerability in Veronica’s eyes was gone, replaced by a dark, smoldering intensity. She cupped Stephanie’s face, her thumb wiping a stray drop of moisture from her lip.
“No one,” Veronica said, her voice a low, dangerous promise, “has ever dared.”
Stephanie just smiled, her dimples flashing. “There is a first time for everything, non?”