Chapter Three
Jamie’s panties alone—red lace with a white flower in the middle—were a turn-on. But the feel of them. They were so hot and wet that Smith had no choice but to rip them off. She spread her legs wide, and he felt her against his fingers and cursed. “F*ck, you’re hot, woman.”
“You made me this way,” she said, her head falling back as she gave in, rolling her hips against his hand.
He wanted to thank his lucky stars that she was so willing to dirty talk back in her own way. He’d never expected her to, but she sure as hell seemed to be loving it, judging from how she felt against his fingers.
Drawing a slow, lingering line against her delicious wetness first, he then teased at her *. She arched her hips against his hand, and her breathing grew erratic. Her blouse had fallen open along her shoulder and he planted another bruising kiss there, more teeth nipping into her skin. She bowed her back in response, and his mouth cruised over her throat to her full breasts, all while using his fingers to explore the hot flesh that called out for him. He stroked her swollen * until she moaned so loudly, he reflexively glanced at the door. But he didn’t really care whether anyone heard because she’d opened her legs wider, asking for more. He worked his fingers faster, then slid a finger inside her.
“Oh God,” she gasped and her voice rose an octave.
Another finger, and her breath caught.
“You like that, don’t you?”
“I do,” she panted.
He pressed the pad of his thumb harder against her, rubbing circles that drove her into a whole new level of frenzy.
“I want to know what you look like when you lose control, Jamie. I want you to give it all to me. F*ck my hand,” he said, and she responded, panting and moaning as she rocked her hips. “You smell so unbelievably sexy when you’re this turned on,” he said, starting to lose his mind with desire for her.
“It’s all because of you,” she said as she dropped her hand from his hips to his cock and stroked him through his jeans, driving him wild.
“You like that? You like how hard you make me?” he said, practically groaning into her ear because he was so damn ready for her. “If you touch me, you’re going to need to finish me off, you know that, right?”
“I’m dying to feel you,” she said, gasping out the words in an unsteady voice.
A low rumble worked its way up his chest as he crooked his fingers into her, loving how she gripped him with her creamy flesh. “You can only touch me after you come.”
Her mouth fell open, and she bucked against his hand as he took her to the edge.
She screamed out a yes, grappling at his hips, his waist, to hold on tight as her orgasm crashed through her beautiful body. He rained kisses on her neck as she came down from her climax, savoring the taste of her sweet skin and the way she’d let go completely with him.
A minute later, she unzipped his jeans and reached inside, taking him in her hands.
He closed his eyes, hitched in a breath at the feel of her soft hand stroking his shaft. He’d pictured this many times, imagined Jamie touching him. But more than that, he’d pictured making her come on his cock.
He curled his palm around her hand, then took her hand off of him.
“I want you against the wall. And I want to know what you sound like when I make you come twice in one night,” he said, scooping her up from the shelf and setting her on the floor.
She obliged, that wild look in her eyes telling him all he needed to know. She pressed her hands against the wall, and he was rewarded with the gorgeous sight of her skirt hiked up to her waist and her ass wiggling.
“Jamie.” She looked at him over her shoulder and he smacked her ass lightly. Her eyes widened. “I want to look at you while I f*ck you senseless,” he said, turning her around. He took out a condom, rolled it on, and lifted her up against the wall, pressing her spine into the wood.
“You ready for me?”
“So ready,” she said.
Then he sunk into her.
…
Jamie’s head was fuzzy, and her body felt like it was vibrating. Somewhere, in the recesses of her mind, she knew this was a recipe for disaster. But she’d never had sex like this before. Hard, rough, all heat and need. She never knew she’d like it so much. That she’d love it so much. She wasn’t a Goody Two-shoes, but her repertoire had been missionary and girl-on-top mostly, and never had she gotten it on in a storage room. Yet here she was with her legs spread in her place of work. The knowledge that she was mere feet away from the party she’d planned sent a charge through her, the riskiness leading her on.
She gripped his shoulders tight, holding on as he stroked inside her. He moved hard, just like he kissed. Possessively, hungrily, like he wanted to own her body. She could barely even move, but she didn’t need to because he held her ass in his strong hands, all while filling her. Then he slowed his rhythm, making sure she felt every single exhilarating thrust, as his fingers dug into her flesh.
“I want you to feel all of me,” he said, groaning into her ear. “I want you to feel everything as I f*ck you deep, Jamie.”
The world was fading out with his words. Wild tension gripped every corner of her body, like she was held taut with lust. She closed her eyes, let her head fall back with each agonizing stroke, climbing closer to another release. “I do, I do feel everything,” she whispered in broken breaths.
“Look at me,” he said harshly. “I want to watch you come. I want you to look at me when I come inside you.”
She opened her eyes, his face a few inches above hers. His dark blue eyes holding her gaze. She couldn’t move, he was in 100 percent control of her—her pleasure and her body—and he was taking them to another level, insisting on closeness. It was so intimate now as they locked their gazes, the connection so intense they didn’t need to talk anymore. No more directions, no more dirty words. She watched as his eyebrows raised, the strain and the tension written on his face, as he thrust in her, slow, hard, deep. She was coiled and tight inside, from the torturous pace, from the exquisite agony of another build, her body reaching for more, craving another climax.
“I have wanted you for so long, Jamie,” he said, thrusting into her, his admission making her grab harder on his shoulders and pull him closer. “I’m so into you. Have been for so long.”
“I’ve wanted you too,” she whispered against his neck, all her truths so easy to say with her body awash in magnificent sensations.
“So.” Another thrust. “F*cking.” A hard drive that sent her spinning. “Long.”
And then, like a switch flipped in her cells, she started to tremble as she felt all the tension release and there was nothing else in the world right now but this wild abandonment as her orgasm took over. She could no longer focus, no longer keep her eyes open. She held his shoulders, digging her nails in, and felt him pump his hips into her. Then his stilted breaths, his moans, his mouth on her neck, his strong hands on her ass, as he came inside her.
Soon, when the orgasm started to fade away, she opened her eyes, and scanned the cramped room with its paper towels, and stepladder, and boxes full of supplies for The Panting Dog.
The sight of them was a gut check, and reality slammed into her. She’d gone and had sex in the storage closet of the bar she managed. During her party.
Her head felt cloudy, her body dizzy. But not from the pleasure. From the stark realization of what she’d done. She’d had sex with Smith to get him out of her system, and in doing so she’d broken a cardinal rule. She didn’t sleep with her friends, and she sure as hell didn’t get physical with men she could never be serious with.
Smith zipped his jeans, looking sexy and dreamy and precisely like the kind of man she’d hate herself for falling for.
“Come back to my house,” he said in that voice that threatened to lure her yet again. From his delicious accent to his filthy words, he was some kind of drug. If she took another hit, she’d be addicted. He absolutely, positively had to be a one-time-only occasion.
She grabbed her panties from the floor, balled them up in her hand, and scrambled for an excuse, neurons now tripping over themselves as she plotted the fastest course out of her embarrassment. Her mind raced through plausible reasons to get the hell out of there. Headache? No, too typical. Forgot a morning appointment? No, that required too much explanation. She wanted to curse herself for not having a dog. Dogs were a perfect excuse because they needed to be walked.
Wait. She did know someone who had a dog.
“I can’t. I’m dog sitting for Diane. I need to go walk Henrietta. Thanks for a fun night,” she said.
She gave him a peck on the cheek, because that would make her seem cool and unflustered, surely. She didn’t look back when she opened the door to the storage room, grabbed her purse from the shelf where she’d left it earlier, stuffed her underwear inside, and hightailed it out the back door.
Once outside, she pressed her palm against the brick wall, needing to root herself to the real world again, not a fantasy one fueled by foolish lust. The warm night air rushed over her and the stars twinkled overhead, as she breathed in and out, each breath recalibrating and reminding her that she wasn’t that kind of woman. She didn’t do that kind of thing.
At least, she didn’t plan to again.
She raced home, the whole time running through her to-do list for tomorrow, the next day, the rest of the week, the rest of her life. Anything to get tonight out of her mind.