Author's note: Thanks for supporting my work and sending me so many lovely reviews and kudos — you guys really keep me motivated! On a less-happy note, I recently received some ugly feedback where someone told me that any time I post my work, they always assume I've actually written something "substantial", but instead it's always "only" a couple thousand words.
I believe writing should be a safe space and everyone should be allowed to write as little or as much as they like without having to deal with self-entitled asshats who mistakenly think you owe them something with the work you share for free. But I'm going to keep writing and supporting other writers and spreading the happy and I hope all of you will do the same!
Warning: Finally, we get some well-deserved smut! Thank you for your patience with the slowest of slow burns!
It was that damn red bra all over again. When Caroline was in middle school, she'd grown impatient waiting on the quarterback to make a move and had put on this ridiculously lacy red bra underneath her cheerleading uniform, intending to strategically flash him. And then her seemingly foolproof plan crashed and burned when her co-captain asked him out first. As she watched Klaus favor the mystery woman with a devilish smirk (that was supposed to be her devilish smirk, damn it), Caroline was transported back to that time when she was a skinny 12-year-old in a too-big bra whose cheap lace ended up giving her a rash. Well, fuck this.
Caroline quickly turned on her spiky heel, wobbling a bit from the urgency of her movement. She'd just passed the ostentatious, glittering fountain near the archway and was certain she'd made a clean escape when a familiar voice called her name.
"Caroline? This is a surprise," Rebekah observed, gliding toward her in a rich burgundy gown with a confident, graceful stride that Caroline wished she possessed. She shifted uncomfortably as she felt the judgmental weight of Rebekah's stare, and she ineffectively smoothed out some of the wrinkles. "I see this was a last-minute decision to attend," Rebekah dryly added.
Gulping down the too-dry champagne with a grimace, Caroline flatly replied, "And I see you've got some face on your makeup — or, are you cosplaying the Joker?"
There was a moment of stunned silence in which Caroline felt her breath hitch, wondering if she'd misread the weird respectful animosity that colored her relationship with Klaus' sister. But then Rebekah gave her a brief nod of approval, lips twitching in amusement. Stefan suddenly appeared, his menacing shadow somehow softened by the crisp, clean lines of his tuxedo. He assessed her with a dead-eyed stare, grunting a vague compliment that she found both creepy and comforting. He slid a possessive arm around Rebekah's waist, murmuring something low in her ear.
The way Rebekah's blue eyes lit up was a strange sight considering the stone-like visage she normally showed the world. Even Stefan seemed less murdery in that moment, like a psychopath who'd gotten distracted by how shiny the meat cleaver was. Again, Caroline was struck by how the pair moved together in almost perfect harmony. Their every movement seemed in synch; muscular, toned bodies were deceptively relaxed and yet there was an underlying predatory awareness that enticed even as it repelled. Whatever they had was undefined but they just seemed so certain.
Like whatever Klaus had going on with his date. The crowd shifted slightly, just enough for her to catch a glimpse of Klaus now clinking a champagne flute to the mystery woman's, probably capping off an incredibly cheesy toast where he waxed poetic on her pricey-yet-lopsided rack and she fawned and giggled like a backstage groupie.
Unable to hide her scowl, Caroline slammed her own glass down on a discarded tray; the sour clang of the silver was the perfect final note to this shitty day. "So, this was obviously a dumb idea and I'm leaving."
Confusion flashed on Rebekah's face as she said, "Nik is around here somewhere — I'm sure he'll want to see you."
"Then feel free to tell him you saw me," she replied breezily, spinning on her heel to leave. "If he ever comes up for air," she muttered under her breath, summoning the last vestiges of dignity to keep from wobbling too badly on those stilts masquerading as heels.
The egg slicer-vegetable steamer-griddle was clearly a superior product that every household needed, but Caroline wasn't really feeling the enthusiasm of the cohosts as they extolled the many virtues of this life-changing invention. Their vacant stares creeped her out, and she wistfully longed for the feel-good fuzzy blanket slippers infomercial that had the dancing bears. She sighed mournfully, barely resisting the urge to throw the remote at the TV. She should just go to bed. After all, watching infomercials wasn't going to make her feel any less like a loser.
Caroline briefly had considered reaching out to one of her friends, thinking that crying over a guy would somehow normalize this whole ridiculous situation, but after multiple failed tries at texting, she gave up. Nothing about this was normal. There was no easy way to explain how she'd stupidly fallen for a mob boss and kind of worked for him but not really maybe more like in an independent contractor capacity and they weren't even together but he was all smirky-flirty with the puppy eyes and she apparently read way too much into that and now she was hiding under a blanket on her couch watching infomercials.
She'd texted some variation of that hot mess at least four times before deleting each one with a groan of despair. Seriously, how was this her life?
Caroline was loudly humming along to a nonsensical theme song about a cutting board that doubled as a pasta strainer and possibly a foot exfoliator, so the banging on her door went unnoticed for ages before she finally rolled off the couch and slowly trudged toward the front entrance with a threatening scowl.
There in the too-bright glare of her security lights, Klaus frowned at her, silken bowtie ends hanging loose at his neck as though he'd ripped it apart in irritation. Even with his dirty blonde curls in disarray and a slightly rumpled tuxedo, he still managed to look like classic Hollywood royalty on his way to the Oscars.
And she was wearing faded pajamas dotted with cartoon dragons drinking wine. But it was the fuzzy purple dragon slippers that really added a classy touch to her ensemble. Flushing bright red, she awkwardly angled her body behind the door, hoping he didn't get a good look at her outfit and then cursed herself for caring. Snarling, she bit out, "What do you want, Klaus?"
"Rebekah and Stefan mentioned that you left the gala in a right strop." Raising an eyebrow, he teased, "Quite a waste to only stay for a meager glass of champagne. Not to mention how you selfishly denied me the opportunity to see you in formalwear — I'm sure you were a vision. Pity we didn't get to dance." He rudely brushed past her, not bothering to wait for an invitation.
Narrowing her blue eyes, she stormed over to the remote and turned off the TV but stood in front of the couch — they could both just stand there and yell until she kicked him out. Glaring at his smug grin, she ground out, "I didn't want to interrupt your precious time with your goomah."
Klaus burst out laughing, shaking his curly head as he told her, "You really need to stop watching The Sopranos, sweetheart. As I've told you countless times, it's not a documentary." As though sensing her growing fury, he hastily added, "Also, Aurora is in a committed relationship with..." he drifted off uncomfortably, shuddering slightly as he confessed, "her brother."
At Caroline's raised eyebrows, he shrugged, explaining, "In the interest of mutually beneficial business negotiations, one must overlook certain taboos. Their family provides critical...office supplies to my organization."
What the fuck? Apparently, she should've been marathoning Game of Thrones instead. But more importantly, Klaus hadn't been on a date. And maybe she'd judged Aurora too harshly — her rack hadn't been that lopsided. Caroline's thoughts were racing, and she wasn't sure what to address first, which led to the thoroughly inarticulate response of, "Oh."
"Furthermore, my family isn't Italian, so we'd say mistress. But I'm certainly not married. I'm also not seeing anyone." Looking at her from underneath his lashes, he seductively said, "But I'd very much like to."
Face growing hot, Caroline looked down at her feet, the fuzzy purple wings flopping back and forth but not providing helpful guidance on where to take the conversation next. Frankly, it had been a shit day from start to finish. Falling for her mother's bullshit. Her mother's insults that felt uncomfortably close to the truth. Realizing she had feelings for Klaus and having no idea what to do about it. As the silence stretched between them, something flashed in Klaus' expression, but she was too exhausted to guess what it was. With a sigh of resignation, she flopped down on the couch, patting the seat next to her.
He paused briefly, his hesitation endearing. Taking her hand, he opened and closed his mouth, clearly unsure of himself. Why was he nervous? She's the one who acted like a jealous teenager at prom. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft, as though he was soothing a wild animal that might bite off his nose at any moment. "You met with your mother. Will you tell me about it?"
Caroline squeezed her eyes shut, Liz's hateful words cutting her once more. The big,fancy doctor thinks she's better than her mother! You'll never be better than me! "Today, I told her I was done trying to fix what she broke. I've said it before and meant it, but this time it was different. I said 'goodbye' in my heart."
When she finally opened her eyes, Klaus' stricken expression made her regret revealing so much of herself, but she nervously kept rambling, "ImeanIknow it sounds stupid and Iwasstupid for even believing her act for a tiny bit because it'snotlikeshewasarealmother to me just more of a figurehead that ended up serving as a horrible reminder of all the choices I should never make." Scoffing, she added, "Can you believe she actually told me to use my connections with your family to get her some kind of deal at the casino? Seriously?! How pathetic is that?"
As he looked away, Caroline caught his guilty expression, and she thought back to what Klaus told her right before she met her mother for lunch. Perhaps you should give yourself some time before meeting with her so soon? "You knew...you knew that something wasn't right, didn't you?"
"I — Caroline, you — you were brought into my world unwillingly. By your mother's selfishness. I didn't want to see you hurt, especially when it's within my power to prevent it." Gray eyes were downcast as though Klaus was afraid to face her as he confessed, "After you saved Rebekah's life, I banned your mother from the casino."
Caroline let out a squeak of surprise, her thoughts racing. He did this for her before she agreed to help his family. She recalled their conversation at the casino when he swore her mother wouldn't come around there anymore. At the time, she'd thought he was simply empathizing, but clearly it was more than that. He was protecting her in the ways he could. Just like he did with assigning her security. Stefan may have saved her from that violent patient, but it was all because of Klaus. Klaus cared about her. Stop wasting time.
Misreading her silence for anger, Klaus hurriedly said, "Love, I didn't mean to overstep, I just wanted to —"
Her lips were on his before he could finish his apology. "You were looking after me," she whispered, caressing his cheek. "Because you care."
"Yes," he whispered reverently.
An electric thrill went through her body at that single word, because the weight that it carried set everything ablaze. "I showed up tonight to tell you I'm ready," Caroline murmured, watching as his face lit up with almost childlike wonder. "To try. Whatever this is between us — I want it," she confessed, cheeks flaming hot as she pulled him in for another kiss.
Kissing Klaus was a revelation — she'd taken him by surprise the first time, so he'd been tentative and somewhat clumsy, but this time he snapped to attention and transformed the kiss into something turbulent. Decadent. He mapped her body with his hands, a long, sensual slide that left her writhing on the couch as he loomed over her with a lustful gleam.
"Be very sure, sweetheart," he whispered hoarsely, muscles tense as though straining to hold back. "Because I won't be able to walk away."
Her throat closed, and she nodded, blinking back tears. That was all the encouragement he needed, pushing up her faded t-shirt to plant kisses along her stomach. Squirming awkwardly, Caroline realized she was wearing the least-sexiest thing in her wardrobe. "Even the scrubs with the dancing dolphins would've been an improvement." Shit. She said that out loud.
"Nonsense, while I'm sure the dolphins are quite fetching, I must admit to a particular fondness for dragons." And then blunt teeth attacked her nipple and every other thought flew right out of her head. He was forceful and exciting and Caroline arched into each scandalous swipe of his tongue, encouraging his explorations.
Moaning at her enthusiasm, Klaus quickly shrugged out of his tuxedo jacket, carelessly tossing it behind him. Her nails fumbled on the smooth buttons of his dress shirt, the soft snap of thread breaking in her haste to finally touch the powerful lines of his body. Caroline finally laid eyes on that black tattoo she'd been curious about since that first time she stormed into his office. It was a beautiful, unexpected rendering of birds exploding out of a feather, and she nibbled along the edges just as she'd fantasized doing countless times.
He gave a helpless little groan that made her feel powerful. Wanted. In one fluid movement, he pulled off her shirt and attacked her breasts with eager lips and tongue. Every movement was an explosion of pleasurable pain and Caroline moaned into that bliss. Klaus trailed kisses along her body, pushing down her pajama pants in tortuously slow movements.
He paused at her clit, leveling his gaze to hers so she could see the naked desire there. When he bowed his head, she held her breath, trembling in anticipation. Warm and wet, he took her again and again with his talented tongue. Caroline bucked into that fire, chasing those magical lips as she whined for more. "Klaus, please."
"You beg so prettily," Klaus purred in approval, sliding a finger inside. He curled it just so, adding another as she gasped in ecstasy, riding out her explosive release. Once she caught her breath, she realized how he was pressed deliciously against her, trembling with need. Rolling over to her side, she rubbed along his obvious bulge, delighting at the hiss she pulled from him.
She teasingly traced the outline of his cock, his flesh jumping at the slightest of brushes. Moving down the length of his body, Caroline tugged on his zipper, placing her hand in his boxers, but refusing to give him the friction he needed. She boldly glanced up, capturing his lust-blown gaze. He was a powerful, intimidating man likely feared in many circles...and yet he freely gave over that rigid control. For her. Her voice was iron-sweet as she demanded, "Beg."
Something wild and hot flared in his gaze, and Klaus hoarsely bit out, "Please. Need it. Need you."
The desperation in his voice went straight to her core, lighting a fire that made her feel every inch of her power. With a satisfied little smirk, she quickly bent her head, taking luxurious licks along his shaft. Her senses were overwhelmed by him — the spicy hint of his cologne, the firm press of his flesh, the vulnerable grunts — all sent her reeling, sucking him down further and further.
As he lost control, his thrusts became harsh and sloppy, and Caroline sank her nails into his flexing cheeks to forcefully drawn him into her mouth. Klaus gratefully gasped out her name as he began to spasm, cradling her head to his thigh while she helped him through his orgasm.
With a possessive rumble, he suddenly flipped them over, pulling her hips up to kneel behind her and deliver playful nibbles. She gasped, rolling back against him for more of those sweetly sharp bites. Caroline reveled in the rough handling, startled that Klaus could bring out something so primal within her. And make her like it. Beg for it.
When his tongue plunged inside, relentlessly stroking along her dripping core, she let out a helpless yelp, already feeling that familiar ache rising. He worked over her body with impressive skill, and when he rose to his own knees, she could hear the telltale slap of skin on skin. He was jacking off to the sight of her on all fours. The realization drove her wild, and she could feel his leaking tip as he rubbed it along her ass.
Throwing him a blazing look over her shoulder, she commanded breathlessly, "Fuck me."
"Yes. Fuck yes," he snarled, shoving his cock inside with one powerful thrust. She loved the way he pounded her body into the cushions, setting a punishing pace. Hot and thick. Her flesh was on fire as she chased another orgasm, and Klaus' body tightened as he joined her. A few more shallow thrusts and then they tumbled together into that bliss, collapsing on the couch in a sweat-slicked pile of heavy, sore limbs — and the lightest of hearts. Finally.