Chapter 3

Blair awoke early the following morning to find a heavy arm draped over her waist and a warm body pressed against her bare back. Oh, God. She'd done it again, but this time she'd slept with Chuck in both the literal and figurative sense of the words. She shimmied out from his embrace as quietly as she could and quickly threw her dress over her head before scurrying out the door, leaving him to awaken to a cold and empty bed. As she crossed the threshold, she risked one last glance in his direction, and her heart clenched at the sight of him curled on his side, his hair disheveled and falling over his eyes. He looked so vulnerable, so un-Chuck-like in his sleep, and she wondered how many of his one-night-stands got to witness him like this. She was certain that she had somehow unlocked a hidden side of him - one that he had always carefully concealed from everyone, that is until he revealed himself to her.

Thoughtful gifts, words of affirmation, sweet shoulder kisses, spooning in their sleep. This wasn't the Chuck Bass she knew; his reputation mandated that he run away as soon as he could get his pants back on. She reached up and absently fingered the jewels sparkling against her throat, the diamonds' reflections dancing across the ceiling. With a deep breath, she continued down the hallway before her resolve weakened, and she climbed back into bed with him.

When she reached her penthouse, she gingerly removed the necklace, placing it into its box, a small smile spread across her lips as she remembered how sweet he had been with her the night before. She felt a light stirring in her stomach, and she recalled her words to him the night before: You know I adore all of God's creatures and the metaphors they inspire, but those butterflies have got to be murdered. It seemed that perhaps those words were meant for herself as much as Chuck. Surely she couldn't be developing feelings for Chuck Bass. The very notion was ridiculous. It had to be the jewelry, right? She couldn't resist expensive, sparkly gifts, and the necklace was definitely the most extravagant she'd ever received from a boy. Or maybe it was his patience and attentiveness, but that was just because of their long history of friendship. It was probably just a combination of familiarity and the intoxication that a secret dalliance inspired. It certainly had nothing to do with the way her heart skipped when he kissed her or how warm and safe she felt in his arms.

She slipped into the shower and relished the feel of the scalding water beating against her back. The soreness aching between her legs and the rawness of her sensitive skin must be some form of penance for her poor choices. She should feel guilty about Nate; she should feel sad about last night's discovery, but, more than anything, she felt numb to her ex-boyfriend. He hadn't been an active participant in their relationship in a long time, but it seemed that she was just now realizing it, as if a metaphorical fog had been lifted and she could see clearly how he seemed to have stayed with her out of obligation.

As she dried her body, her phone chirped on the vanity. She ignored it and pulled on a light pink satin robe, tying it loosely at her waist. She set about blow drying her hair, lost in thought. She had to end things with Chuck. Anyone could have seen them at her party. Gossip Girl would show no mercy if it got out, and -

"Oh, my God," she gasped, clutching her hand over her chest when she caught sight of a figure standing inside the entrance of her bathroom.

"Morning, Waldorf," Chuck leered, leaning against the door frame and letting his eyes linger on her bare legs.

She turned around and hurled her hairbrush at him, which he managed to narrowly dodge. "You scared me to death," she screeched. "What are you doing here?"

"I texted you," he shrugged.

"So? A normal person waits for a response." She rolled her eyes. "Only stalkers show up at a person's house unannounced."

"Always with the name calling," he tsked, entering the bathroom to stand behind her.

"You can leave now," she snapped, flipping the blow dryer back on in an attempt to drown him out. He yanked the cord from the outlet, and she narrowed her eyes at his reflection in the mirror in anger. "I said leave!"

"Come on, Blair." He raised his hand to sweep her hair over her shoulder, and she reflexively closed her eyes when he lowered his lips to her neck, kissing a path down to her shoulder.

"Stop it," she protested weakly, but her traitorous body reacted to his touch.

He reached around to the front of her robe, pulling gently on the tie so that it hung open. "I didn't like waking up alone this morning."

"Did you expect me to stick around to cuddle?" She shivered as he trailed his hand down the center of her chest between her breasts to rest against the flat of her stomach.

"We did plenty of cuddling last night while we slept," he turned her body to face him, using his arms to cage her against the vanity. "I had more creative plans for you this morning."

"I'd overcome that temporary bout of insanity that led me to sleep with you by the time I woke up," she arched her back away from him, but when her legs hit the counter, she raised her eyes back to meet his. "Last night was a mistake."

"You sound like a broken record." He parted her robe on each side to reveal her bare chest, heaving from a mixture of apprehension and anticipation. Slowly, his fingers circled her breast, his thumb just barely brushing against her nipple. As the bud pebbled beneath his touch, he smirked arrogantly. "You can lie to yourself all you want, Blair, but you want this as much as I do."

"It's chilly in here," she rasped out as a poor explanation.

"Sure, it is." He cupped her breast fully, squeezing as he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. Her body responded to his touch, her arms wound around his neck of their own volition. She returned his kiss, forgetting her earlier protestations and opening herself up to him. The kiss grew in intensity, tongues colliding passionately as they pawed at each other with hungry movements.

Chuck gripped her bottom and lifted her onto the countertop, groaning when she brushed against him. She wrapped her legs around his back, pulling him closer, gasping for air when he lowered his mouth to her breasts. "God, I can't get enough of you," he groaned, running his hands over her thighs until he connected with the wet heat pooling between her legs. She let out a moan when he slid his fingers inside, pumping in time with the rocking of her hips. As she crested toward climax, the overwhelming sensation of her orgasm had her searching the vanity for anything to grip onto, but she only succeeded in sending multiple hair products crashing to the floor. She arched her back, crying out as pleasure overcame her.

"Miss Blair?" Dorota called out, knocking on the bathroom door. "Are you okay?"

Chuck grinned slyly and dropped to his knees in front of her. She shook her head no, but before she could stop him, his mouth was on her. She slammed her head back against the wall, clenching her eyes tightly as she pulled hard on Chuck's hair. He was relentless, and the harder she pulled, the more aggressive his tongue became.

"Miss Blair?" Dorota's voice grew in concern.

"I -" Blair shuddered. "I'm fine, Dorota," she forced out between ragged breaths. "I just stubbed my toe." Chuck's tongue glided over her in long, smooth strokes that caused her to bite the inside of her lip until she tasted blood.

"Okay," Dorota sounded skeptical, but she didn't question Blair's dramatic reaction to the pain in her toe. "I will prepare lunch for you now?"

He inserted his fingers inside of her once more as he continued to lave his tongue over her clit, and she could no longer contain herself. Panting hard, she gasped out, "Yes, yes."

"Alright, Miss Blair," Dorota said. "I make apple-walnut salad for you."

Chuck stood to his feet, arrogant smirk firmly in place as Blair came down from her high. Anger surged through her body, and she quickly readjusted her robe over her shoulders. She stumbled off of the counter and shoved him hard with her hands. "Asshole!" she hissed, continuously swatting his chest with her fists.

"Ow," he chuckled, stilling her hands. "Don't act like you didn't enjoy that."

"We could've been caught!" she whisper-yelled.

"And it got you hot, didn't it?" He arched his eyebrows, inspiring a new wave of slaps from Blair.

"How did you even get in here without Dorota knowing?"

"That's for me to know," he grabbed her wrists and held them at her waist. "You need to be careful; seeing you all fired up like this gets me so -" He glanced down at his tented pants.

"Ugh," she grimaced and shoved him toward the door. "Time for you to go."

"But –"

"Not gonna happen, Bass," she sneered with a mocking smile. "Sorry."

"No, you're not," he groused. "You might as well give into your baser needs, Blair. I'll wager that, after a few more rounds, you'll feel less bitchy."

"Out, now!" She crossed her arms over her chest.

He adjusted his suit jacket. "You'll be the one seeking me out soon enough," he licked his lips, eyeing her mussed-up hair. "Now that you've had a taste, you'll be craving it."

"Make sure Dorota doesn't see you," she hissed, but it was too late – he'd already slammed the door behind him.

XOXO

It had been over two weeks since Chuck cornered Blair in her bathroom – a week of dodging his phone calls and ignoring his texts. When she saw him turn down the hallway at school, walking with purpose in her direction, she dashed into the bathroom. She half expected him to wait for her or ambush her again, but he kept his distance. He'd been right on one account – she couldn't stop thinking about the things he did to her. Her body seemed to have awakened with new physical awareness, and, at night, all she could think about was his mouth and his hands. She'd taken to exploring the heights of her own sexual power, but the fantasy didn't match reality. She was frustrated and stubborn – two conflicting emotions warring inside of her that would soon combust if she didn't get herself under control.

At Thanksgiving, when Serena asked her if she had slept with Chuck for revenge, she made a snide remark essentially affirming the blonde's question. Serena's presumptuous judgment enraged her, but she couldn't bring herself to tell the truth. She'd wanted to have sex with Chuck, and it had nothing to do with Nate. The first time, after her dance at Victrola, it had been about the woman she saw reflecting back at her through Chuck's eyes. She wasn't the prissy school girl Nate saw; she was powerful, bold, and sexy. No other guy had ever looked at her the way Chuck did, and it was the first time that she felt truly desirable. The second time, at her birthday party, it was more about her need to take control of this newfound side of herself. With Chuck, she was free to express her sexuality without shame; he encouraged her, but he let her take the reins. Sex with Chuck was like something that she'd never experienced before; it was empowering, thrilling, and erotic.

As he'd predicted, she craved his touch. She couldn't deny it anymore, or she might actually explode from the tension coiling inside of her. At school on the Monday following Thanksgiving break, she set her pride aside, reminding herself that the reward would be worth the sacrifice. As she sat through a tedious lecture from her ancient American Lit teacher, she discreetly tapped out a text: Janitor's Closet, 2nd floor. 12:30.

While Blair listened half-heartedly to Mrs. Marren's discussion of Hester Prynne, she waited anxiously for Chuck's response. The matronly woman demanded the attention of the room as she projected an image from her computer. "You see here, the gold threading around Hester's letter redefines the 'A' from an emblem of shame to a symbol of her power and independence, her unwillingness to follow societal conventions of how a woman is supposed to behave."

Her cell phone vibrated beneath her thigh and she dared a quick glance. Already there.

She smiled to herself and studied the image on the screen at the front of the room. Hester held her chin high, ignoring the looks of disgust from the crowd around her. Three hundred years later and women were still shamed for their sexual choices. Blair made herself and Hester a quiet promise that she would not allow America's obsession with female purity to dictate her decisions. She wanted sex – more specifically she wanted sex with Chuck – and there wasn't a damn thing wrong with that.

Well – the little voice inside of her head amended– there's nothing wrong with that as long as no one finds out. She did still have a reputation to maintain, after all.

Ten minutes later, after the bell rang, Blair waited for the halls to clear before she slipped into the closet. Chuck, who was sitting on a bucket in the corner, stood as soon as he saw her. "Finally," he said. "I thought you were playing games with me. I've been waiting for fifteen minutes."

"I'm not playing games."

"Good," he smirked. "I knew you'd come to your senses sooner or later." He encircled her waist, pulling roughly to untuck her blouse from her plaid skirt.

"Stop," she pushed him back, creating distance between their bodies.

"This is getting really old, Blair," he gruffed in frustration. "If that's not what you wanted, then why did you call me in here?"

"I -" she exhaled slowly, "That is what I want." His eyes lit up at that admission, and he immediately reached for her again. "No, wait."

He dropped his hands. "What?" His tone was sharper than he meant for it to be, but, like Blair, the past two weeks had been a special kind of torture.

"If we're going to do this," she focused her eyes intently on him, "we need to establish some ground rules."

"Okay," he nodded impatiently.

"No one can know," she shook her head emphatically, "especially not Nate."

"Not a problem," he pulled her to him, successfully pushing her cardigan from her shoulders. "I don't have a death wish."

"I'm serious, Chuck," she sighed, when he seemed more focused on unbuttoning her shirt than listening to her commandments.

"I am, too." His lips pressed softly against hers, coaxing her to open her mouth to him. She relented with moan as he managed to pull the cups of her bra down with one hand while the other guided her legs around his hips. "Seriously aroused right now."

"Chuck," she mewled, throwing her head back against the wall.

"Mhm," He hoisted her into his arms, holding her against him while he blindly fumbled with his wallet for a condom. "The way you say my name drives me crazy."

She reached between their bodies to unzip his pants, freeing him from the confines of his boxers. "I've been waiting for this," she admitted softly. "I tried to fight you, but, God, I want you."

He groaned as she stroked him, their kisses growing frantic as their lust took control of their movements. Lowering his mouth to her breasts, he flicked his tongue over one nipple then the other. "You in this little skirt on school grounds – you're fulfilling every naughty fantasy I've ever had."

She writhed against him, the tension building to an almost tangible degree. "You fantasize about me?"

He stilled her hips with a firm grip of his hand, sliding slowly inside of her. She grabbed tightly onto his neck, panting hard as her body became reacclimated to his. "Fuck," he groaned quietly, burying his head in her neck. "You have no idea, Blair, the things that I've dreamed about doing to you."

"Show me," she ordered, moving her hips impatiently.

He pounded into her with more force than either of their previous couplings. She'd needed tender and sweet before, but now she needed hard and fast. She needed him to show her that she wasn't fragile and that he wouldn't hold back with her. The sharp ridges of the concrete wall bit into her back, and Chuck squeezed her ass tightly in his palms. She yanked on his hair, digging her nails into his scalp. Within minutes, his thrusts grew frantic and uncontrolled. The intense pleasure bordered on pain until streaks of white heat surged through her body, and she screamed out loudly enough that, if anyone was in the hallway between classes, she would certainly be heard. Chuck grunted, pressing his hips into her as he reached his release shortly after her.

Gently, he lowered her to the ground and helped her adjust her clothes. Sweet Chuck was back when he kissed her softly, stroking her cheek with his hand. "I think we both needed that," he rasped against her lips.

"It's been building for some time, hasn't it?" She smiled back at him, straightening his tie.

"Until next time, Waldorf," he winked, dangling her lace underwear between his fingers before shoving them into his pocket.

"Chuck," she growled, trying to yank the tiny garment away from him.

"Call it a souvenir," he teased, placing his hand on the door knob. "You can have them back the next time you call me. Don't wait two weeks this time." He kissed her before walking away, leaving her standing alone, still a little dazed, in the dark closet, her lips swollen and bruised and her heart knocking against her chest.

As he made his way down the hallway, ignoring Mr. Jernigan's request for a hall pass, his phone buzzed in his pocket. Your place, after school.

He smiled to himself as the familiar fluttering in his stomach returned.

A/N: I never thought that I would pick this fic back up after over a year of ignoring it, but here we are. :)