Free Behind the Green Curtain by Riley Lashea Page B

the nipple that had hardened the instant she
entered the room, before her hands dropped lower to grasp the bottom of Caton’s
shirt and yank it over her head. Then, Amelia was back against her, and Caton swore
the soft moan she heard wasn’t hers.
    Not lingering or hesitating,
Amelia’s hands went for the button of Caton’s dusty jeans, flicking it open and
working the zipper down in what felt like one seamless motion.
    Caton lurched as the tips of
Amelia’s fingers slid over her panties, stroking and pressing, forcing her to
react, and Caton could do nothing but react. Eyes closing, she reached out,
seeking the edge of the file cabinet, trying to hold onto reality, but when
Amelia’s hand retracted just long enough to bypass the barrier of her panties
and find her wet and open, Caton gave up on the real world and gave in to the
fantasy.
    Gasping at useless air, she lost
herself in the sensation of Amelia’s fingers moving against her, reaching back
to snake her hand through tangled dark hair, clasping the back of Amelia’s
neck. It was a surprise, maybe even pleasant, when a groan sounded in her ear
and Amelia’s hand quickened its pace.
    Caton wanted more. She felt as if
Amelia was only skimming the surface. Still, it was more than enough, and Caton
came apart under skilled hands, a technique perfected through practice. Maybe
Amelia wasn’t frigid after all, she realized, and the idea of Amelia lying in
bed touching herself like this was enough to send Caton toppling into the abyss
she’d been standing on the edge of for what felt like forever. The free fall
was every bit the flight she imagined.
    When Caton’s knees gave out,
Amelia’s body provided support enough to keep her standing, and when the world
finally came back into focus, Caton collapsed back against her, upright but
depleted. She could feel her sweat sinking into Amelia’s shirt, could hear
Amelia’s softly discharged breaths over her own labored breathing.
    Then, without warning, Amelia
suddenly pulled away, and Caton did find the file cabinet, pitching forward to
catch herself on the edge of it before she fell to the floor like the jumbled
folders at her feet. The same silent steps that brought her into the room
signaled Amelia’s departure, and, as they faded, Caton gave up her effort to
remain standing. Letting go of the cabinet, she slid to her knees on the cold
floor, hand finding her shirt beside her and holding it to her chest, shielding
her too late from cameras that had already seen more than enough.
    When Amelia came in, Caton was in
no mood to acquiesce, or to even be polite. She meant to stand up for herself,
demand some decency. For the amount of pride and anger she managed to retain at
Amelia’s touch, though, she may as well have signed herself over to Amelia for
the duration of her employment, because as tall as she tried to stand, she
still ended up on her knees.
     
     

Chapter 13
     
    When you come in Monday, you’ll
be upstairs.
    That was the declaration that
haunted Caton all weekend. Along with the guilt, which plagued her each time
Laura smiled at her, and the memory of Amelia’s touch each time she was alone.
    Workday only half through, following
Amelia’s hasty retreat from the storage room, Caton had no choice but to pick
herself up and try to readjust to reality. When she had emerged from the
dungeon at the end of the day, the late afternoon sun streamed through the
stained-glass windows of the foyer, and she had been drawn in the wrong
direction.
    Finding herself at the foot of the
stairs, knowing Amelia was up there somewhere, she wanted to climb, to find
Amelia and see what she had to say for herself. Or what she might do given
another chance. Those stairs led to the unknown, though, and Caton couldn’t
work up the nerve to face any more surprises.
    Apparently no place was safe from
surprise, though, she had discovered in the kitchen when she’d gone in to say
goodnight and Sole hit her with the