Deep In The Bottle (Part Seven)

Orgasms.

They were great. She'd given herself plenty, sometimes even multiples with her hand and with.... well, devices. Supposedly innocent neck massagers, for instance. But there was something to be said for another hand... or mouth. She wasn't an idiot. She knew this was done. She'd just never been on the receiving end of it, herself. The idea was embarrassing, messy. How could anyone want to? But, from the first touch of his lips, all of that had gone out the window.

She could feel her pulse fluttering in forbidden places. And it was due to Lex Luthor. It was probably best not to think too deeply. If she did, she'd push him away. And what was the point of that now? She should have done that before his lips first touched her skin. She was screwed now, either way. Knowing this could have happened wasn't much better than knowing it did.

Perhaps it was best to enjoy the ride. Especially when it was so...

"Oh, my God..."

Of course. She might have known he'd know just what to do. Maybe she should be glad he'd probably had more women than she had shoes. It had taught him this. This being the kind of mouth and tongue action that put every experience she'd had, alone or accompanied, to shame. And why shouldn't she enjoy it?

She felt his hands grip her hip. She hissed slightly as one pressed on her recent bruise. He only dug in harder. She looked down. His eyes were boring into hers. She closed her eyes quickly, throwing her head back. It was a little too much and yet... Wasn't that half of why she was ready to come after only minutes? That it was him? Usually it took such a long time to relax enough, to let go enough to come. Here, there was no relaxation, only tension that coiled tighter and tighter inside her. And damned if she wasn't about to come this way, with every muscle clenched, every nerve screaming.

Her hands flew outward, knocking one glass off with a crash and sending another skittering to the edge. Her head hit the table. It might have hurt if any of her blood flowed up north. But it all seemed to gather in the place he licked, sucked... even scraped with his teeth.

Usually, she came with a sigh. She knew, even before it began building in her throat, that tonight she'd come with a scream. It was nearly frightening and her hands frantically scrambled outward, grabbing the first thing she touched. She brought his liquor-soaked coat to her face and let go, smelling his cologne, scotch, and expensive wool. Hearing her own cries, muffled slightly, as her insides clenched, her blood raced, her mind numbed...

She heard his low chuckle as she came to. Light assaulted her eyes as the coat moved from her face. She watched with bleary eyes as he used it to wipe his face, grimacing once as he sniffed the alcohol she'd poured on it. "Nice touch," he said, smirking.

"Back at you," she mumbled, wincing slightly when she realized she'd said it aloud. As if he needed to be more conceited.

He chuckled again and she felt a hand pulling at her blouse, running up under it, fingers sliding over her skin. "I was wrong about you," he said, leaning over her as she lay boneless on the table. "I thought you were wound up too tight, like a little schoolmarm. Probably couldn't come at all. But it's not you, is it?" His lips glanced over her jaw before moving to her mouth. "Nobody's ever touched you right," he said against her mouth.

God, she wished he would just shut the fuck up. It was so much easier to enjoy the tingles racing all over her body if she could just forget they were caused by Lex.

"Not even Clark?" His lips moved to her neck. "I mean, I thought you two had at least..."

She found the wits to move one leg upward and plant her foot against his stomach. She pushed hard, sitting up as he stumbled backward. "Shut up," she growled. "I'm not an idiot, you know. I know exactly what this is. Same as your marriage to Lana." She pushed off the table. "You just want to play with Clark's things."

"Really?" His eyes narrowed. "Then how do I explain you? I mean, Clark's never even played with you, not even a little." He looked down. She did, too, seeing the state of her blouse. Only two buttons were hanging on. "Is he blind or just stupid?"

"He's neither," she spat, pulling her blouse closed. "Unlike you, he's too good to use someone for..."

"An orgasm?" Lex suggested, coming nearer again. "I guess he's unlike you, too. You hate me, Chloe. And yet you just came all over my face." He smiled, licking his lips. "Let's not pretend that was anything short of using. Half the reason you want to fuck me right now is to punish Clark."

She felt an angry flush creeping up her neck. "You're sick. And I'm not..."

"Come on now, Chloe," he drawled. "I mean, aren't we at least past the idea that we aren't going to fuck?" He reached for her blazer and she slapped at his hand. He grasped her hand, taking the other and bringing them behind her back. "You can worry about why you did it later. But I'll know that it's for every touch he never took, every time you put on one your low-cut tops and he didn't even..."

"Get off me."

"I wonder which name you'll scream when I'm inside you," he said, backing her towards the table again. "It would be flattering if it were mine, but I'm pretty sure you'll scream the same thing you do when you're alone, what you've probably almost screamed when you were with Olsen."

She struggled between him and the table. Only the table moved backward, screeching toward the sideboard as his hips pushed into hers. Even as her mind protested the things he said... She didn't resent Clark. She wanted him to be happy. She did... her body strained toward him, starved all these years. Because he was right about one thing. She hadn't been fucked. There had only been Jimmy. And he'd made love to her with worshiping, grateful eyes. Lex was as far from loving her as anyone could get. And here she was, straining toward him. Why? Because he'd fuck her... and for no other reason than he wanted to.

"I bet you're used to it, then," she hissed. "I mean, you married Lana, even when you knew she still..."

"Let's leave my ex out of this," he cut in, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Doesn't it fucking piss you off, Chloe?" One hand moved from her wrist to her shoulder, pulling one side of the blazer down. "Wasting all this time on him. It should. He'll never see you for anything more than your mind." She shook as his hand cupped her breast. How could she really want this? Was he right? Did she want to punish Clark?

Had Lana? On a subconscious level, it would explain why Lana would be with this man. If she were to be honest with herself, something she tried to do as often as possible, then she'd admit that... Well, she could screw the Metropolis Sharks, all of them, and Clark wouldn't blink. But this man... He'd do more than blink. This man was the enemy. He wasn't just Clark's enemy. He was her enemy. After all he'd done to her, how could he be anything but?

Ethics, her mind whispered as his thumb brushed over her nipple. Pain. These should keep her from seeing this through. What he'd done to her, to her friends... But her body. The way he'd made her feel. It was intense, clutching, dark and sweet.

She swayed against him, not missing the satisfied smile that curled his lips. It was as if all of the romance novels she swore she didn't read were wrong. Maybe sex wasn't supposed to be a tender expression of deep feelings. She'd had tender sex and it had been... Well, it hadn't been this. This was far from tender and she was burning up at the thought of it.

"Sick," she whispered aloud as his thumb rubbed over her bra and the thin material of her blouse. "You're sick," she said through clenched teeth, holding his heavy-lidded stare. I'm sick. I must be...

"So you've said," he said, his fingers sliding to one of the buttons that still held on. "You and scores of therapists. But what about you, Chloe?" He deftly undid the button and her pulse raced.

Why couldn't he just stop fucking talking? She was too deep in this now to stop. She needed to feel, not think, and he seemed intent on making this as hard as possible on her. Well, no more. If he wanted to play...

"You just love to hear your own voice, don't you?" She pushed him back slightly, letting her fingers curl into his chest. "You seem so focused on whose name drops from my lips. Has that happened?" She smiled. "On those nights with Lana, did she slip? I mean, exactly how many times did that C sound come out, only to be stopped, changed to something else?"

His eyes widened for a moment, before returning to that laziness that was more familiar. "This isn't about..."

"Come on, Lex, you want to talk, we'll talk." She pushed him further and he moved this time. "But why don't we talk about you. I mean, you think you've figured out why I might do this, but what about you? Is it just the challenge of getting someone who hates you into bed? Or is it getting something Clark didn't?"

"Don't you mean wouldn't?" he cut in.

"Or is it deeper than that?" she went on, ignoring him. "Because you feel I, like every woman you've ever touched, would hate myself for allowing it. And you know that. That's what you get off on. You think what you've done with 33.1, with Ares, with so-called freaks, is excusable, noble even. But it's not. You want to subdue and lord over everyone. It's not about helping. Its about power. But here's the thing," She moved away, shrugging off her blazer and dropping it to the floor. "Whatever you've done to me, you haven't changed me. I've been threatened by you, but I don't cower. Because I know someday I'll bring you all the way down. Hell, I've just been touched by you and I'm not curled up in the fetal position crying with self-loathing." She laughed. "Because I needed to come and you... you're just a warm body. You really have no power over me. I could fuck you eight ways to Sunday without shedding a tear."

She undid the last button on her shirt and pushed it to her shoulders, letting it slide back the rest of the way down her arms and off her fingertips. His eyes followed it down, before moving up again, darting between her face and torso. "And maybe you're right," she said softly. "Maybe I do need a mindless fuck and maybe you're just the one to give it to me. But I won't be grateful and I won't be sorry. Because you making me come..." She smiled. "You owe me that... and more. So that..." She nodded to the table. "That wasn't me surrendering to your power. That was you giving me something I'm owed. And we're not clear yet." Her hand moved to the side zip on her skirt. She pushed it down slightly and let it hang on her hips. He was still, silent, nearly expressionless. But his eyes, hard to read as they were, were running over her. "What's wrong? You all talk? Don't you want to come over here and pay me?" She tilted her head to the side and watched him, standing . He didn't move, didn't speak. She let out a low laugh. "Thought so."

She turned and moved toward the changing screen that served as a wall to her "room." She moved behind it and pulled her pajamas from under her pillow. "That's the thing about you, Lex," she said through the screen. "Take away your power and you're just deflated. Poor little thing."

She only heard one creak of the floorboard, really. He must be good, because the next thing she knew, there was a hand on her breast, another on her stomach and a hardness that poked the small of her back. "Deflated?"


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