Deep In The Bottle (Part Six)

He knew what he was doing. Despite all the alcohol he'd had, he knew just what to do. Because, despite all she'd had to drink, she was in danger of sobering up. He couldn't have that happen. Not yet. Not before he made her come.

She could push him away then, call him a snake, push him out the door again. But he'd have her writhing first. If there was ever a way to win... Then every time she saw him, accused him, sneered at him, she'd know what he'd done to her.

She squirmed away as he knelt lower. It was almost sweet. Despite all Chloe knew, she was still just a green girl. She'd only been with Olsen, as far as he knew. "What a waste," he murmured, gripping one thigh tight. He reached in finding the edge of her panties. He still hadn't seen them. They didn't feel spinster white. They felt slippery, silky. He pulled one side, then the other as she stared down at him.

"I don't..."

"Shhh." He smiled as he slipped the panties to her knees. Purple. He wondered if she had a matching bra. He really should have stripped her down first, but there would be time. She had to come first, then she couldn't sober up and realize how wrong this really was. And it was wrong. All kinds of dirty, sexy wrong. He was about to fuck his ex-wife's best friend... or was he? How exactly did things stand between Lana and Chloe?

Did it even matter?

When the idea had first popped into his head, he'd thought it was a charming notion. Not something he'd do, really, but then... He'd seen it on her. Hell, he'd smelled it on her. Attraction. The nervous fidgeting, the eyes that darted around the tiny apartment, the clumsy movements... Sex with him might not be something that Chloe Sullivan had a long think on. But her mind had flirted with it. His, too. He was sure she, much like he, had dismissed the idea as ludicrous and yet... Well, throw in really good scotch and who knew what could happen?

Apparently, this. He smiled, inhaling the scent of her. Lana had been a fan of some perfume that smelled like baby powder. He'd tolerated it. But Chloe... She smelled of soap, a little like coffee, and a lot like pure, heady woman. He pushed her thighs wider even as she squirmed. Didn't she know that she should be thanking her lucky stars? It wasn't often that he had to resort to oral sex to seal the deal. Usually, the idea of his money was enough to have a woman on her back. But Chloe... She was a special case. Money didn't matter to her. She dealt in truth.

Well, he wasn't about to give that to her. But this... He pushed her skirt to her waist, ignoring her tiny protests. So she was new to cunnilingus. Not for long.

He swooped in, immediately wrapping his lips around her clit. She stilled then, the room silent but for the light sound of sucking.

Oh, she was ripe for this. She'd pined for Clark for years, only to settle for a boy of a man who probably only gave her missionary and murmured sweet words. She wasn't someone who needed sweet words. He could tell. She needed to be taken, hard and ruthless. She wouldn't get that from Olsen. She'd never get it from Clark, blind as he was. He'd give it to her. Someone had to.

He heard her cry out hoarsely above him. He knew her embarrassment wouldn't last long. Her hands gripped his head. He sucked harder, flicking his tongue up and down firmly. Her hands slid over his scalp, nails scraping lightly. There was one thing to be said for baldness. His scalp, he'd learned, was an entire erogenous zone. He hummed against her and she bucked upwards.

Any second now... He sped up his tongue, sucked harder. She had to be sated, boneless. It was the only way to be sure she wouldn't suddenly decide this was a bad idea. He'd hardly realized how invested he was in having her. But now... He looked up, not slowing, never stopping.

Her hands left his head as her upper body flopped to the table. The wood groaned slightly. God, she was responsive. He wondered if once would be enough. Generally, it was. But Lana... The challenge of her purity, the tantalizing idea of her love, something Clark wanted so desperately, were things he needed to explore. And Helen -- the enigma that was her, a doctor, sworn to do no harm. And yet she'd nearly destroyed him. Desiree... Well, he could chalk that up to meteor rocks, like most things in this town.

But Chloe... He'd be lying if he thought this wasn't tied up with Clark Kent. Chloe was Clark's help-mate, his greatest champion. And who was it giving her what she needed?

Not Clark. He was a fool. Lex had experienced life with Lana. It looked great on paper, but Lana would never let go... Not of her juvenile notions of what love was... of Clark. Chloe wouldn't either, not deep down. But here, now, he could give her what Clark never would. Sex wasn't about love. He believed that it was need, grasping and desperate.

If he'd learned only one thing in his dealings with Chloe Sullivan, it was what she needed. Maybe that was why, when they locked horns, his last retort was against her love life. It hit her where she lived, on a primal level. The constant rejection from Clark had reduced her to this: a brilliant woman settling for a silly boy. Why? Because Jimmy made her feel needed. Chloe was drawn to what needed her. Clark needed her skills so he could bust into Lex's house and point the finger. Jimmy had needed her, too. To feel important, as Lex was sure he couldn't believe his luck.

But Lex? He didn't need her. He just wanted her. The feel of her now, the memory of her later. That was what she really needed. That was what Chloe Sullivan was missing: just being wanted, not for her mind, but for her body. It was both basic and complicated. She needed to feel like a woman, not a brain with legs.

And who was giving it to her? Not Clark who she sacrificed for. Not Jimmy, who wouldn't know what to do with a woman on his best day. It was him. Her enemy. No one ever knew you better than your enemy.

Her legs tightened on either side of him. He grasped them and brought them to his shoulders. He needed to get closer, work harder. As much as her moans spurred him on, he knew Chloe was buried deep within that mind of hers. He wanted her to feel, not fucking think her way out of an orgasm just because of who he was. Come on, Chloe. You need this. Take it. The sooner she took what she needed, the sooner he could have what he wanted. Total possession. That mind, that body, and him. The unavoidable end. He'd have her tonight. And who the fuck cared about tomorrow?

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