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They go back to Emerson after Ned graduates for the next naming of the officers at Omega Chi. She can tell that he misses it, the easy fellowship with the guys, the stature, the college itself. He dresses carefully, in his school necktie, his favorite suit, and it's all she can do not to tease him out of it before they leave the house. Her royal purple cashmere sweaterdress clings to her curves, and she notices his admiring glance as he opens the car door for her.

She can't wait for him to see what's underneath.

The Omega Chi members who weren't at their wedding congratulate them both, invite them to the next party. Nancy glances at the media room fondly. Ned practically got her naked on that couch more times than either of them care to recall. They shut themselves into his room upstairs practically every weekend, emerging only for meals, and that was only when they were nearly starving.

The fraternity keeps a special room for very important guests. Nancy found out where the key was kept during one of her cases.

It takes her just under two minutes to locate it again.

The party is in full loud, boisterous swing when she finds him in the crowd and takes his necktie in her hand.


She shakes her head and leads him to the VIP room, and his low chuckle carries even over the din of the party.

"You can't wait until we get home?"

She raises an eyebrow at him. "Can you?"

He tilts his head. Point taken.

They never seem to have long enough; it's amazing she was able to find this much time for them, and being back here, even though she knows she was working cases while they were at Emerson—it reminds her of when they seemed to have all the time in the world, when he would eat her out, teasing her to the edge for what seemed like hours before he'd give in and fuck her, when she would walk into his room on Friday nights after games wearing a trenchcoat with nothing underneath just to see desire darken his brown eyes.

Her cellphone is off, and no one will find them here, no one will interrupt here.

Ned glances behind them as she tugs him into the room, leaving the golden key on the dresser before she backs, facing him on her stilettos, toward the bed. She leaves him a few feet away from the door, holding his gaze as she reaches under her dress and slips the purple and black lace thong down her legs and steps out of it, as she unhooks her matching bra and pulls it off without taking her dress off. God, the cashmere feels so good against her nipples, and the fabric is so thin that she's sure he can see the silhouette of the peaked tips.

He comes toward her. "You know, when I was living here, being caught in this room was automatic punishment."

"Really," she whispers, her voice low, husky. "You feeling guilty, Nickerson?"

He shakes his head. "I'm not the one who stole the key," he points out, loosening his tie.

It's hanging loose around his neck when he comes to her, kissing her hard, backing her against the mattress. She grips the loose ends of the striped silk and tugs, feels him skim his fingertips up her thighs, inching her dress up. Once the fabric is above her hips, she lets herself fall backward onto the rich satin bedspread, pulling him down with her by the tie. He slips his knee between her naked thighs and gazes down at her, at the playful glint in her blue eyes.

"How long has it been," he murmurs huskily.

"Too long."

He cups her hips, his thumbs brushing the waxed flesh between her thighs, and he leans down and breathes on her breast through the thin fabric, until she's squirming under him. She pulls her dress up, then completely off, leaving her in her stilettos and wedding ring and a diamond necklace. She lets her shoes drop off, and the thud against the carpet is loud in the relative silence.

"Mmm," he says approvingly at the sight of her, stroking his hand up her side to brush over a bare nipple. "You ready for your punishment, Miss Drew?"

"Depends," she replies, arching up into his touch. "You gonna take any more than that tie off?"

He chuckles, sliding off the bed, then grasps her hips and shifts her so her head's on the pillow. She shivers at the chill of the satin under her bare back. "How much evidence you wanna leave in here, sweetheart?"

He takes her point, but reaches for her wrists anyway, using his necktie to secure her to the headboard. After a quick search of the attached bathroom, he comes back with a plush towel, and she arches up as he pushes the bedclothes down, spreading the towel over the fitted sheet. She lowers her hips and rubs her ass against the soft fabric.

She can pull her wrists out of the tie after thirty seconds of manipulation. They both know it. But she loves it when he masters her, when she's powerless under him.

He sits beside her on the bed, his jacket off, his sleeves rolled up, but otherwise still disappointingly clothed, and opens her legs, then gently strokes the join of her thighs, until she's rocking against his hand. He slips his thumb between her legs to stroke her swollen clit, guiding two fingers down into the slick hollow of her sex, and she tilts her head back, gasping, arching into it.

Then she glances over at the door.

It's not locked.

"Guess you'll just have to be quiet," he murmurs, and his eyes have a wicked gleam to them as he thrusts three fingers up into her.

She gasps desperately, her fingers gripping the headboard so hard they ache. "Fuck," she groans, hating that he's still dressed, that he isn't trembling with desire even now.

Then he curves his fingers and—

She has to clamp her lips together tight to keep herself from screaming as his fingertips press against her g-spot. She spreads her legs wider, planting her heels on the bed, rocking frantically under him as he taps the spot inside her.

Oh, she is going to kill him when they get home. Her scream turns into harsh panted breaths and she groans as she trembles, and—

"Come," he growls, pressing into her even harder, and she thrashes, arching up off the bed. The sensation is almost like pain, and then she lets out a breathless, nearly silent scream as she bears down against him, her inner flesh clenching hard, her orgasm sending a quick hot gush of slick arousal against his fingers.

He brushes her clit and a tremor shakes her, and even though she's flushed, open and limp on the bed, the air conditioning is suddenly cool against her—

And he's unfastening his pants with one hand, almost shaking, and he strokes his cock perfunctorily with his wet fingers, because God, it's not like he needs to.

She can't help it. She cries out when he moves between her sprawled legs and his sex swiftly fills hers, and she's so slick that there's no friction, and oh, how he fits inside her, and she's so damn sensitive that it almost hurts, but the pain is amazing. She rolls her hips and sobs out a cry, her head tipped back to bare her throat, and he pulls back for a hard thrust, then another, until he's moving as fast as he can, pressing to the hilt inside her before sliding almost fully out of her.

She wraps her legs around him—or at least she tries, but it's all she can do to keep breathing. Her hips are rocking frantically under his and she's trembling, undulating against him, seeking contact, pressure, release.

She feels almost raw from his thrusts when he reaches between her legs and rapidly strokes her clit and she comes again with a high sobbed cry, the sound of him moving against her slick flesh audible. He rides her through it and she shakes her head frantically, begging him to stop, even as she plants her heels again and ruts against him.

He lets out a groan and collapses to her as he comes, his cock throbbing hot inside her, and she whimpers, swallowing hard.

It takes a long moment for them to recover. He reaches up and slowly unties her wrists, and she chafes them a little to get circulation back. Her fingers are white from her grip on the headboard.

"Have you learned your lesson?" he growls teasingly, his mouth against her ear. He brushes a lock of hair off her glowing cheek.

"Oh, yes," she murmurs. "We're coming to that party next month and we are definitely going to do this again."

Ned chuckles as she runs her fingers through his hair. "Nympho."

"Same to you," she teases, and sighs. "So we have to get dressed."

He shrugs. "Or we could sneak out the window and have sex in the backseat."

He laughs when she actually pauses to consider it. "Have to put the key back. Meet you there in ten minutes?"