Chapter 191: Moan For Me***

Chapter 191: Chapter 191: Moan For Me***

We kissed through the remaining floors.

The elevator climbed in silence while Giselle stayed aggressive: tongue, teeth, the sharp edge of control she refused to fully drop.

My class loved it.

The Hunger purred under my ribs and pushed for more contact, more skin, more of whatever she was willing to give before the doors opened again.

I spun her around.

Her palms hit the wall.

I pressed in from behind, mouth finding the side of her neck, and bit down just hard enough to leave a mark the gown’s neckline wouldn’t hide.

"Don’t... do that."

My right hand slid up the front of the sea-glass dress and closed over her breast, squeezing through the fabric while I rolled my hips against her ass.

"...Okay."

Giselle leaned back into it.

Her head turned so she could catch my mouth again over her shoulder.

"How are you so good... at this?"

"A secret."

I found her nipple through the dress and pinched lightly.

She exhaled hard through her nose but didn’t moan.

She never did.

Every previous time- the interrogation room, the midnight visits, the fragment tests- she kept the sound locked down like it was classified.

I pinched again, slower.

"Why are you being silent?"

"I don’t know what you mean."

I spun her back to face me.

Her eyes were darker, lips already swollen.

She cupped my face with both hands and kissed me like she was trying to win an argument.

I let her.

My hand left her breast, dragged down the front of the gown, traced the indent of her waist, then lower, until my fingers found the edge of her panties beneath the skirt.

Giselle made a small sound against my mouth.

"Nngh—"

"That’s it."

I liked that sound.

It was the closest she had ever come to giving me something unguarded.

Her kiss turned rougher, almost punishing, while I hooked two fingers under the waistband and slid inside.

She was already wet.

Heat coated my fingers the second I touched her.

"Wai—"

I didn’t wait.

One finger pushed into her, slow enough that she felt every centimetre.

Her hips jerked.

The fragment under my ribs flared like it had been waiting for exactly this.

I added a second finger and curled them, searching for the angle that would break her silence properly.

[Intimate contact confirmed]

[Primary target: Giselle]

[Arousal spike detected — Target]

[Host arousal: 79%]

[Fragment: Active — Feeding]

Giselle’s forehead dropped against mine.

Her breath came faster.

"The cameras—"

"Private lift. Draven’s booking. If anyone is watching, they already know what kind of evening this is."

I worked my fingers deeper, thumb brushing the sensitive bundle of nerves above where I stretched her.

Her thighs tightened around my hand.

A second, quieter sound escaped her throat.

"Ah..."

Not a full moan.

Close enough that the Hunger surged.

"You’re shaking," I muttered against her mouth.

"Your fingers are inside me in an elevator."

"And you’re soaking my fingers. Stop pretending this is only strategy."

Giselle kissed me hard enough to bruise, freehand fisting in my hair and biting my shoulders.

I kept the rhythm steady, not rushing, letting the wet sound of my fingers moving in her fill the small space between the soft elevator music.

Her hips started to meet the thrusts in small, involuntary rolls.

"Moan for me, Giselle."

[Target arousal: Rising]

[Energy transfer: Minor — Stable]

[Warning: Public climax risk — 2 floors remaining]

"Two floors," I told her.

"Don’t you... dare stop."

I didn’t.

I pressed my thumb harder and curled my fingers in a demanding rhythm.

Giselle’s breath fractured.

Her nails scraped the back of my neck.

For a moment I thought she might actually break and give me a real sound, then the elevator chimed, and the descent slowed.

I withdrew my hand just before the doors opened.

I lifted the wet fingers between us and held her gaze while I cleaned them with my tongue.

"Not so strong, are you?"

Her jaw flexed.

"You’re going to pay for that."

"Looking forward to it."

The doors opened on the quiet private level.

No audience.

The distant party noise was only a memory.

Giselle grabbed the front of my formal coat and dragged me out of the elevator like she no longer trusted herself to speak in public.

The corridor to her booked domicile was short.

The door recognised her signature and unlocked with a polite click.

We barely made it inside.

The moment the door sealed, she shoved me back against it and kissed me again, hands already working at the fastenings of my jacket.

I let her strip the formal layer off my shoulders, then caught her wrists and turned her toward the open living space.

"Dress. Off."

Giselle held my stare for a long second.

Then she reached back, found the hidden seal of the sea-glass gown, and released it.

The fabric whispered down her body and pooled at her feet.

No bra.

The panties I had already pushed aside were the only thing left, dark against her pale skin.

She hooked her thumbs in the waistband, dragged them down, and stepped free.

Giselle stood there naked in the middle of the private suite, white hair spilling over one shoulder, red eyes locked on mine, the faint marks of my mouth already darkening on her throat.

The fragment under my ribs roared.

[Full Visual Contact — High-compatibility target]

[Host restraint: Compromised]

[Recommendation: Claim]

I crossed the distance in two steps.

"Last chance to remember this was supposed to stay political," I said.

Giselle’s answer was to reach for my belt.

"Politics can wait until morning."

I kissed her again, harder, and walked her backward toward the bed while the formal clothes still left on my body became a problem we were both done tolerating.

The Hunger no longer asked. The tail stayed mercifully quiet.

There was only heat, the taste of her, and the knowledge that whatever line we had been toeing all evening had just been erased with the dress on the floor.

Giselle’s hand moved to my waistband.

"Give it to me."