Society of Wishes

by Elise Kova

  “Done.” She breathed out a sigh of relief, pulled her USB, and relished in the feeling of a sense of accomplishment that settled deep into her bones. Which was instantly followed by a rush of fear as she turned around, a gun pointed squarely at her head. She really was done having guns pointed at her.

  “You have to the count of three to tell me who you’re working for,” the man, now sporting a black eye and bruised jaw, growled at her, clicking off the safety.

  “Come on, dollface.” Wayne’s fingers, long and warm, wrapped around her wrist. Slowly, he raised her hand, as if to signify their surrender, but his subtle tapping at her watch did not go unnoticed.

  Before the man had a chance to start his countdown, Wayne and Jo shared a look, nodded, and turned off their watches.

  It took a long moment before their disappearance seemed to register, a look of confusion and then terror spreading across the man’s face. Wayne and Jo stayed perfectly still, practically holding their breath despite the fact that they knew he could no longer see or hear them.

  It wasn’t until it was obvious the man wasn’t going anywhere, struck dumb by their vanishing act, that Jo’s heart started to slow. She looked from the man—gun forgotten and staring wide-eyed at the space where they had “once stood”—and over to Wayne. He looked startled himself, but his eyes were shining. Jo cleared her throat.

  The man ran over to the computer, looking for evidence that what he saw was real. Jo couldn’t help a smug grin. Like he’d find anything. Her finger tapped the flash drive, safely in her hoodie; she wasn’t that clumsy.

  “So, uh. . .” she started, hand still shaking with adrenaline as she ran it through her hair. “Wanna get out of here?”

  Wayne looked away from the man hunched over the computer and settled his heavy gaze on her. There was a flush on his face and a grin tugging almost involuntarily at the corner of his lips.

  When he laughed, uproarious, and maybe even a little hysterically, Jo couldn’t help but follow suit.

  Chapter 19

  Tomato

  THERE WAS NO way of knowing what time it was when Wayne and Jo stumbled back into their penthouse suite. Not that it mattered. Time was irrelevant now anyway. What she did know was that the sun had long since set, the view outside their balcony window illuminated by the city lights and the Eiffel Tower, lit up in all its ageless grandeur.

  “Now that, doll,” Wayne whistled, laughing to himself as he flopped down onto the plush, pillow smothered bed. “Was a ring-a-ding-ding.”

  “I told you it’d be no big deal.” Jo rolled her eyes, but she was far too high off the adrenaline of their escape to be annoyed. She could still feel the success of their mission pumping like blood through her veins, thrumming with energy and accomplishment.

  In attempts to settle her still-shaking hands, Jo grabbed a bottle of champagne out of the multitude they’d had room service send up, and began working at the metal cage around the cork. “Also, do me a favor and never use the term ring-a-ding-ding again.” She didn’t bother looking in Wayne’s direction, knowing he would properly ignore the request no matter what. “And second—”

  The cork popped free of the bottle the moment the wiring around it was loosened, the small projectile careening just over Wayne’s head to bounce off the wall with a thunk. A deluge of foam cascaded down the neck, so before it could soil the carpets any further, Jo poured a glass of champagne for herself and for Wayne, admiring the way it bubbled behind the freshly washed crystal.

  “And second,” she began again, sitting herself on the edge of the bed and tipping the glass back for a nice, long swallow. The bubbles tickled her throat, the alcohol warming her stomach. She licked her lips and handed Wayne his own glass before continuing, giving the man a once-over. “‘Doll’ is getting kinda old.”

  “Alright.” Wayne sat up, taking a quick swig of his own drink before shooting her a look. Jo was shocked, but mildly hopeful, that he was about to heed her request—at least until he opened his mouth again. “What about sweet patootie?”

  “What?” Jo sputtered, choking a bit on her champagne. She couldn’t help but laugh, though. “Thank you, but pass.”

  “Okay, how about hot mama?”

  “Also pass,” Jo grinned, still laughing. Wayne shifted a little bit closer to her on the bed, chuckling softly right along with her, even if the look in his eyes was more seductive than amused.

  “Sweet mama?”

  “No thanks.”

  “Dish? Looker?” Wayne’s grin shifted into an equally suggestive smirk, his right hand inching across the comforter to barely intertwine with her own fingers. Before Jo could respond, she swallowed, clearing the sudden thickness in her throat. Despite the fact that her own smirk was still firmly in place, even she could hear the tightness in her voice.

  “No and no.”

  Wayne leaned in, lips brushing against her cheekbone to the shell of her ear. Jo’s heart skipped a beat, her eyes pinned to the painting on the far wall of their hotel room, a gaudy affair depicting a woman sitting in a room that looked strikingly similar to their own. It was very meta, almost a little too much so, and definitely not distracting enough.

  “Alright then,” Wayne practically purred into her ear, teeth just scraping against her earlobe. “What about—” Another barely there nip, another hot breath against her cheek that had Jo’s eyes fluttering closed. “Tomato?”

  Jo nearly dropped her glass; even her lust-fueled brain stuttered to a sudden halt. Sensing the shift, Wayne looked at her, Jo looked back, and then she lost it. Her laughter was a booming sound that, considering their watches were running, was bound to echo straight down the hallway and into every room in between.

  “Tomato?” Jo wheezed, shakily putting her glass down on the nightstand so she wouldn’t spill its entire contents onto the bed. “What—what is that?”

  “A vegetable?” Wayne frowned, slightly and obviously disappointed by his advances being thwarted. “And a perfectly respectable way to address an attractive woman?”

  “Tomatoes are fruits.” Jo sniffed, still chuckling. “And either way, that one’s a hard pass.”

  This time, Wayne rolled his eyes at her, watching her get out of the bed and walk back over to their spoils from the evening. She could practically feel the stare like a brand against the back of her neck. “Guess ‘doll’ it is,” he said, voice husky and low, still gravelly. It took everything Jo had not to turn immediately around. Still, a shiver ran down her spine at the sound. She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t had the same thought, adrenaline and success making her needy and eager.

  “Guess so.”

  “Guess so,” Wayne repeated, following her out of bed like a dog on a leash. Jo could feel the anticipation running up her spine like a jolt of electricity, waiting for him to get close, to lean in.

  Without warning, Jo spun herself around, wrapped her hands in the collar of his nicely pressed dress shirt, and tugged him down.

  He seemed surprised at first, lips unresponsive for a second, before his embrace tightened, a content hum passing from his mouth to hers. He kissed back with a languid kind of intent, as if he was drinking her in, but when his tongue traced her bottom lip, she decided that that simply would not do. His teasing kisses and low, suggestive tone had gotten them here, and slow, delicate kisses just weren’t going to cut it.

  She wasn’t some blushing maid looking for a man to treat her like a porcelain doll. She was a woman with a fire in her stomach and a need between her thighs. She didn’t want slow kisses, like the two of them were lovers. She wanted to blow off some steam, wanted to ride the high of triumph.

  At one point, Jo found herself with her own back against the door, her hands fisted in Wayne’s way too expensive-looking shirt. He’d managed to hoist her up, her legs hooked around his waist, and with every roll of his hips, she could feel his desire, hot and hard and heavy against her own.

  Wayne’s lips were on her neck, teeth dragging over the sensitive skin at
her pulse. She more felt his words vibrating against her than actually heard them.

  “So what brought this on all of a sudden, dollface?” He purred, nipping at the skin beneath her jaw. Jo gasped at the light sting, head falling back against the door. But not for long. She didn’t want talking, flirting. She wanted mind-numbing satisfaction.

  So instead of answering, Jo bucked her hips against him with more insistence, recapturing his lips with little grace. She tried not to flush when he chuckled into her mouth, but she couldn’t help her whine of frustration when he broke the kiss once more.

  “You know,” he breathed, words coming in humid puffs against her face. “There’s a perfectly good bed about two feet to our left.”

  And that, she could definitely get on board with.

  Jo took the time to kiss him deeply once more, flicking her tongue into his mouth and reveling in the way it made him noticeably shiver. “I like the way you think,” she said, pulling his bottom lip between her teeth and sucking.

  This time, when Wayne groaned, it was punctuated by a needy (maybe even involuntary) thrust of his hips. The heat at Jo’s core grew, her own eagerness showing as she let her legs fall back to the floor, her hands scrabbling to make quick work of her hoodie. Wayne chuckled at her again, but when she glanced at him—one arm still in its sleeve and hair half caught in fabric—his pupils were blown wide, expression absolutely filthy.

  A boost of confidence at his gaze had her stripping her shirt off more slowly, trembling slightly beneath the way his eyes trailed shamelessly up and down her body. He watched her remove her pants with a similar, hungry expression, eyes growing dark and trousers tenting noticeably with his arousal.

  “Well?” Jo smirked, surprised at the steadiness of her own voice. Giving him her own once over, she turned towards the bed. After unclasping her bra and letting it fall to the floor, she glanced over her shoulder at him. He looked perfectly, beautifully stunned. Not to mention incredibly turned on. A spark of excitement ran down Jo’s spine; this was what she’d been needing. She’d done what she’d come here to do, and damn it if she couldn’t get a little something for herself too. “What are you waiting for, Davis?”

  Within seconds, Wayne was already behind her, similarly dressed in nothing but his briefs. Strands of hair were sticking up out of their usually slicked back perfection, implying he’d removed his own clothes possibly even more quickly than she had. The thought made a warm stretch of amusement spread across her chest.

  As soon as they were within reach, Wayne wasted no more time on words, wrapping his arms around her waist to pull her close.

  If she’d thought his kisses were hungry before, they were absolutely famished now, a wanton display that left Jo reeling and dizzy with her own want. As she kissed back, she ran the fingers of one hand through his hair, the other inching low to cup the bulge between his thighs. Wayne groaned into her mouth, bucking into her touch. Eager for more of his noises, more panting breaths and urgent curses, Jo inched that hand past his waistband to wrap around the solid heat of his length.

  Wayne shuddered at the touch, breaking the kiss to pant heavily into the crook of her neck. She felt him twitch in her hand as she moved, stroking him to full hardness.

  Jo wasn’t sure when they’d started shuffling towards the bed, but suddenly the mattress was at the curve of her knees, Jo stumbling backwards onto the plush comforter. Wayne followed, though not before removing his briefs. When Jo went to do the same, however, Wayne stilled her hands.

  “Let me,” he said, voice low and raspy. The sound itself was pure sex, setting Jo’s insides on fire.

  Wayne didn’t remove her underwear immediately, instead leaning over her to recapture her lips in a deep and searing kiss. With one hand, he massaged her breasts, tips of his fingers pinching at one nipple, then the other. With his other hand, he reached low, between their bodies, to run his fingers over her still-clothed arousal.

  Jo’s back arched off the bed at even that simple touch, his fingers stroking until the fabric of her underwear grew damp. Wayne hummed in approval at her response, pulling the fabric aside to toy with her directly, fingers dipping into the wetness there before rubbing in circles around her most sensitive spot.

  She cried out, the sound trailing off into a moan as Wayne inched two fingers inside of her, curling them once, twice, before starting a slow and teasing thrust. When Jo became incapable of kissing back, mouth slack against the sensation, Wayne took to sucking bruises into her neck, her shoulder, her collarbone.

  Jo could feel the pleasure building steadily, that white hot desire that could wipe out everything else. She craved it more than she wanted to admit, that blissful numbing of the mind as the body rang with ecstasy. She was thankful for Wayne and his ability to give that to her, even if it was only temporary, a brief reprieve.

  When Jo’s toes were curling with her approaching release, Wayne pulled his fingers out and away, leaving Jo gasping and confused.

  “Wayne. . .?” Jo whispered his name, only mildly embarrassed by the obvious whine beneath it. Wayne didn’t respond verbally; instead finally, finally pulling her soaked underwear off and throwing it into the corner.

  Carefully, but in no way without urgency, Wayne pushed in, a thick drag inside her until they were flush together. For a long moment, they stayed that way, breathing each other’s heavy breaths and simply feeling. Jo basked in the instant scratch of that itch, in the fullness that throbbed like a pleasant stretch between her legs.

  Then Wayne looped an arm beneath one of Jo’s knees and started moving.

  Each movement was like the strike of a match, giving off sparks until it would eventually burst into flame. Wayne had one hand on her chest, but the other had moved to tangle in her hair, pulling her head to the side to give him ample room to suck fresh bruises into her neck. She could hear each moan like a rumble in her ears, her heart pounding in time to his thrusts.

  She was getting close again, that same building heat from before going molten. She just needed a little more, a little faster, a little deeper, a little—

  “H-Harder,” Jo gasped, clutching onto the back of Wayne’s head, fingers digging into the nape of his neck in a way that must have been painful. He didn’t comment, however, choosing instead to sling both of Jo’s legs over his shoulders and pick up the pace.

  The change in angle had her screaming out his name, that rising need from before bordering on a tidal wave now, so very, very close to crashing. In fact, all it took was Wayne dragging a hand down her chest, past her stomach, to the place she needed it most.

  A few quick motions of his hand and Jo was gone, her whole body alight with pleasure. Her eyes snapped shut and her whole body tensed, convulsing almost painfully around him. The orgasm seemed to last a full minute, though surely it must have only been a handful of seconds, the pleasure refusing to dull. It wracked through her in sizzling aftershocks that left her just as breathless, one after another after another.

  When it finally died down enough for her to get her breath back, it was to find Wayne lying atop her, panting softly against her cheek. She hadn’t even realized he’d finished.

  When Wayne pulled out, rolling over to give her room, Jo followed him, too tired and blissed-out to care that he might not want to cuddle. He was warm and familiar now, and not just because of the sex. Her eyes fell closed and Jo took a deep breath, letting out all the stress and pent-up frustrations that had been building even before the Society. Tonight, she’d enjoy the feeling of fulfillment and not sleeping alone for once.

  After all, she’d secured Yuusuke’s safety. She’d proven her magical worth to the most important person in the Society—herself.

  If anything, she’d earned a good night’s sleep.

  Chapter 20

  Great Depression

  “IT LOOKS EVEN more beautiful now.”

  The lights of Paris never faded. They glittered in the thin sheen of sweat that covered Wayne’s chest as Jo traced lines between and aro
und his nipples.

  “I know, I’m quite the sight to behold.” Even his usual cockiness sounded tired. Well, that’s what happened when you went three times in twenty-four hours. It seemed Jo wasn’t the only one who had been a bit pent up.

  They were no longer breathless. A heavy silence had settled on them like a blanket, one they seemed content to nest under for a shameless amount of time.

  “You’re not bad, I guess.” Jo finally pulled herself into a seated position.

  “‘Not bad’ doesn’t have ladies screaming my name,” Wayne huffed, still splayed out on the bed. Jo ran her own hand along the sheets. She could feel them, but they didn't rumple between her splayed fingers. They didn’t move to pile at Wayne’s arm when she transferred her touch to him.

  He was the most real thing she could feel when her watch wasn’t activated. His skin, the thin coating of hair on his arms, the curve of his shoulder, the stubble that seemed perpetually shy of a five o’clock-shadow no matter how much time passed.

  “What is it?” He propped himself up as well, the covers not ruffling as he moved.

  “We have all the time in the world, but not enough.” Jo looked to her watch. She had “all the time in the world” as long as she wasn’t actually a part of it. When she was, she had mere hours. “You’re the only thing I can touch, when I’m not using time.” She looked at her watch again; barely more than an hour was left.

  “Is touching me really that bad? You seemed to enjoy it.” When his words didn’t get a rise, the grin fell from his face and Wayne rose as well to tap her chin. “Buck up, dollface. No need to have such a somber look on that beautiful brow. You did some fine work.”

  “I did.” That much they could agree on. “But. . . what does it really matter? What does any of it matter?”