Bang on Loosely

by Valente, Lili

  She arches a challenging brow that’s sexy as hell. “We’ll see, Comstock. We’ll see.” And then the elevator door dings open, and she stalks out, snapping her fingers. “Now, let’s get going. I’m starving.”

  “Me, too,” I murmur, walking a few steps behind so I can watch her ass wiggle in her red dress. I thought Theo’s chest was my favorite part, but that fine backside is quickly gaining ground.

  Her eyes aren’t bad, either, or her lips…

  “Are you coming?” Theo calls over her shoulder.

  “Not yet,” I say. “But if all goes well…” I jog past her to the car, stealing the keys from her hand and slapping her bottom on my way, summoning a half-outraged, half-turned-on sound from her pretty mouth.

  “After you, princess.” I open the door for her, grinning as she stalks around me to get in, loving the way her eyes flash as they meet mine.

  Oh yeah, we’re going to have a good time tonight.

  No doubt in my mind.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Theodora

  Dinner is incredible. It’s one long series of mouth orgasms from the sesame scallop appetizer, to an inspirational plate of grilled octopus with fresh spring veggies, to a dessert cheese plate paired with a fruity ice wine that sends fresh bursts of ecstasy shivering across my tongue with every sip.

  “Oh my God,” I moan, eyes sliding closed as I savor my last bite of sweet and cheesy candied apricot stilton. “So good. It’s so, sooooo good.”

  “Please stop,” Cutter mutters in a tight voice from beside me in the shadowy booth.

  “Stop what?” My lashes flutter open to find him watching me with an intensity that makes my breath catch.

  God, he’s pretty. With his green eyes reflecting the candlelight and the stubble on chin glowing a soft golden yellow, he looks like a fallen angel. Or an angel who’s poised to fall as soon as someone gives him a reason to let his wicked side out to play. And it would come out to play with me. All I have to do is say yes to being his friend with benefits.

  But that’s not what I really want. I want the benefits, yes, but I also want to know that Cutter wants to hold me—just hold me—as much as I want to hold him.

  “Stop moaning,” he says. “Or I’m not going to be able to stand without embarrassing myself.”

  I follow his meaning and my cheeks go hot, but not from embarrassment. The thought of him hard for me beneath the table doesn’t disconcert me. It turns me on, which is a serious problem, considering how stupid it would be to get a hotel room with him tonight.

  Sleeping with Cutter will change things forever. We won’t ever be able to go back to being “just friends,” and if we keep getting naked together, sooner or later, he’s going to realize that I’m falling in love with him.

  Still, I can’t resist leaning closer, and whispering, “I didn’t think you cared about things like that.”

  “I don’t.” He turns toward me, bringing his lips so close to mine that his body heat kisses my skin and I catch a hint of sweet wine lingering on his breath. “But you do, and I want to give you want, Theo. Everything you want.”

  “Everything?” I ask, my thoughts straying to dangerous places where no sane thought should wander. To secret rooms where the naïve, foolish version of me daydreams about what it would be like to be with Cutter for real, to be the woman he lets into his heart as well as his bed.

  But Cutter isn’t thinking about my heart, a fact he proves when he says, “Every damn thing,” in a rough, husky voice.

  A moment later, his hand is on my thigh beneath the table, sliding under my dress, seeking the evidence he’s so sure he’ll find.

  And he will…if I let him. Because he’s right—I’ve been wet since we left the hospital, since he said he wanted me naked and under him and left me unable to think about anything else.

  “We shouldn’t.” A tremor shivers down my legs as his fingers trail higher and higher until he reaches the place where my thighs meet.

  “Spread your legs,” he murmurs.

  “This is bad,” I whisper, but I do it anyway. I spread my legs, my pulse spiking and my head beginning to spin as Cutter’s hand settles over where I ache, his knuckle nudging my clit through my panties.

  “So warm,” he says, rocking against my most sensitive place, making my nipples pull tight inside my bra and tingling sensations flood between my hip bones, soft waves of pleasure that swiftly become something more serious.

  I bite my bottom lip and tip my head down, letting my hair fall around my face, hopefully hiding my expression.

  “Warm,” he echoes, “but what about wet?” A beat later, he pulls the crotch of my panties to one side, and his finger glides into where I’m so hot and slick some part of me insists I should be ashamed of myself.

  But I’m not ashamed.

  And when Cutter growls softly into the hair by my ear, “Fuck, princess, I want to be inside you more than I want to sleep until noon for the rest of my life,” my lips part on a shaky laugh.

  And then I spread my legs wider, silently begging for more.

  More of his touch.

  More of his wicked words whispered in my ear.

  More of the electric way he makes me feel. I’ve been sleepwalking through my life for months, but now I’m awake and alive and so close to the edge I know I’m going to lose control any second.

  I reach for him under the table, rubbing my hand over the thick ridge of his erection through his jeans, but before I can fumble for the zipper, he moves my hand away with his free hand. “No. This is all you, baby. You’re going to come for me. And you’re never going to be able to eat anything we had for dinner tonight without thinking of my fingers inside you. Of how wet you are for me right now, how much you’re dying to fucking come.”

  My breath shudders out, and Cutter hums softly. “That’s right,” he says, his finger pushing deeper inside me. “Let go, princess. Let go and come for me.”

  Clawing my hand into his rock-hard thigh muscle, I tuck my chin tighter to my chest and squeeze my eyes shut, willing myself to remain silent as he adds a second finger and his thumb finds my clit, rubbing it with the perfect, soul-melting pressure. The tension coiling low in my body winds tighter and tighter until my breath is trapped in my chest, and my stomach is tied in knots, and I’m so wound up it feels as if I’m going to spontaneously ignite.

  I want to come so badly that it feels as though I might die from it, but I can’t. I can’t seem to forget I’m at a restaurant and there are people barely five feet away, can’t stop worrying that I’m going to cry out when it happens and attract mortifying attention.

  I’m about to beg Cutter to stop, when he whispers, “Kiss me, Theo. Let me taste you,” and I turn to him, my mouth seeking his like a starving woman.

  Our lips meet and his tongue sweeps into my mouth, stroking against mine, demanding I give him what he wants, what we both want, what I need so desperately that I can’t hold back another second.

  I come with a fierce clutch of my inner walls around Cutter’s hand and a soft sob that he swallows with his kiss. His lips cast a spell on mine, keeping me silent as the first orgasm fades away and a second builds swiftly in its wake, swelling bigger and faster than the first until it crashes over me with enough force to trigger an out-of-body experience.

  I shatter into a thousand sparkling shards, each one reflecting the dazzling green of Cutter’s eyes as he pulls back to watch me reduced to a puddle of lust, a quivering lump of clay he can do with as he wishes.

  I come back into my skin slumped into the crook of Cutter’s arm with his hand gently stroking my thigh beneath the table and his fallen-angel lips curved in a smug grin. I know we must make a pretty scandalous picture, but I’m so drunk on pleasure I no longer care that I look like I’ve been doing…exactly what I’ve been doing.

  “Proud of yourself?” I ask, tipping my head back.

  “Very,” he says, his grin stretching wider as he bends his face closer to mine. But he doesn’t k
iss me again. Our noses brush as our foreheads gently meet, resting against each other as unspoken things pass between us.

  The moment is an invitation to sin, but I’m not sure where we’ll be headed if I accept. Probably to the closest bed, where we’ll have meaningless sex that won’t be meaningless at all for me. Where I’ll do things I’ll regret when I sober up from the sex buzz in the morning—like I did last time.

  Which reminds me…

  “I’m still a talker when I’m naked. Just so you know,” I say, pride stinging a little. “In case that still drives you crazy.”

  He pulls back, brow furrowed. “Who said it drove me crazy?”

  “You did. I heard you on the phone with your friend. Last fall.”

  It takes a moment, then realization sparks in his eyes and regret dims it. “Shit. Sorry about that. I didn’t mean it. I actually like the talking. I was just…hurt. I wanted you to stay.” His hand comes to cover mine. “Forgive me?”

  I thread my fingers through his. “You’re forgiven.” My cheeks go hot again as I add in a softer voice, “And let’s do it. Stay here tonight. Together.”

  He bites his bottom lip with a hungry look, making me feel like the second round of dessert. But instead of grabbing our jackets and dragging me to the door, he shakes his head. “No. I don’t want your answer yet.”

  I blink. “Why?”

  “I have one more obligation to fulfill before we turn in, princess,” he says, pulling his hand from mine to motion for the server lurking in the far corner to bring the check. “We’ll get you a good seat, give you an hour or so to simmer down, and see if you’re still ready to have a good time after the orgasm hangover wears off.”

  I sit up straighter. “This isn’t my first time at the orgasm rodeo. I know what I want.”

  He shrugs. “Maybe.”

  I start to protest, but then I realize the game he’s playing, and the words turn to laughter on their way out. “Oh. Okay. I see.”

  “You see?” he asks, handing over his credit card and murmuring a soft, “Thank you,” to the waiter.

  I smile at the man, nodding and agreeing that yes, everything was wonderful, before turning back to Cutter as the server hurries away. “Reverse psychology. You’re trying to get me to do what you want by pretending you want me to do the opposite.”

  He rolls his eyes. “You give me too much credit. I’m not that clever.”

  “Ha.” I shake of my head. “Yes, you are, and you know it. You’re diabolical when you want to be.”

  He grins, but it quickly fades from his full lips. “Seriously. This isn’t about head games. I just don’t want you to accuse me of taking advantage of you during a moment of weakness.”

  I shake my head. “I wouldn’t do that. I’m a grown woman who takes responsibility for her own decisions.” The server returns with the receipt and disappears again with a final, “Thank you,” and our dessert plates, and Cutter flips open the folder to sign the credit card slip. “Thank you for dinner, by the way.”

  He shoots me a warm look out of the corner of his eye. “My pleasure. You’re fun to eat with. I didn’t know foreplay by cheese plate was a thing until tonight.”

  I wiggle my brows suggestively. “Then you obviously haven’t been hanging around with the right kind of cheese plates. Stick with me, and I’ll make sure you keep ordering the good stuff.”

  “Sounds perfect,” he says, leaning over to steal a quick kiss before murmuring against my lips, “But we should jet. I’ve only got ten minutes before my set.”

  My eyes fly wide. “What? What set? Where?”

  “I’m playing a benefit thing for an old friend at nine.”

  I pull my phone from my purse as I slide out of the booth, my heart jumping as I see the time. “Cutter, it’s eight fifty-two!”

  He slowly shifts around his side of the booth and stands, stretching his arms lazily over his head. “No worries, we’re only a few blocks away, and I’m warmed up from jamming at the hospital earlier. Besides, they expect me to be late. It’s part of my charm.”

  “No, it isn’t charming.” I thread my arm through his and bolt for the exit, giving him only a hot second to fetch his guitar case from the coat check on the way out before I commence urgent hand waving. “Come on. Hurry! Late drives people crazy.”

  “Drives you crazy, you mean?” he asks, chuckling as we emerge into the cool night air and start for where the car is parked two blocks away.

  “No, it drives everyone crazy,” I say, walking as fast as I can in the high-heeled boots I almost never wear. “That’s why the entire concept of time was invented. So we could all show up together and some people wouldn’t be left standing around twiddling their thumbs, wondering when the other people are going to arrive. It’s a matter of respect.”

  “I respect the hell out of Zane, and he knows it,” Cutter says. “But he also knows that time gets away from me sometimes. Especially when I’m with a beautiful woman.”

  “No way,” I say, shaking my head. “Don’t blame this on me. I didn’t know you had somewhere to be or I never would have let dinner go on for so long.”

  He stops so abruptly that I’m already three feet past him by the time I realize he’s no longer beside me.

  I spin with a huff, my hands on my hips. “What?” I ask, tapping my foot. “We can debate the merits of timeliness later. Right now, we need to get you where you’re supposed to be.”

  He jabs a thumb over his shoulder. “We’re here.”

  I glance past him to a nondescript brick building with a pair of grungy, unguarded gray metal doors waiting at the top of the steps leading up from the sidewalk. My brows lift. “There?”

  “It’s a secret show,” he says, reaching for me as I cross back to him. “Very small, very intimate, very expensive to attend.”

  Against my better judgment, I go into his arms, the part of me that loves touching him warring with the part of me that was raised to believe being late for work was tantamount to tossing your parents’ ashes into a garbage can and cursing every last one of your ancestors. “So you’re not going to be late?”

  “I’m going to be right on time,” he says, kissing my temple. “But you’re cute when you’re nerding out about punctuality.”

  “Should I go back to the restaurant?” Now that I know to listen for it, I can make out the faint throb of a drumbeat, but it still sounds far away. It’s hard to believe there’s a rock concert underway on the other side of those doors. “I can hang out at the bar and wait for you there since I don’t have a ticket.”

  “You have a ticket. I texted Zane and told him to hold one for you when we decided you were coming with me tonight.” Cutter takes my hand, leading me up the steps. “He’s psyched to meet you. He’s a big foodie, and I told him you’re getting ready to open the hottest new restaurant in the tri-state area.”

  “But I’m not,” I say, nervous for some reason. “At least not anytime soon. And I could fail spectacularly at running my own business, you know. There are no guarantees it will be a hit.”

  “You’re not going to fail,” Cutter says, pausing to knock on the door, three slow knocks followed by three quick ones. “You’re good at everything you do, and you’re going to kick ass at being your own boss.”

  Before I can reply, the doors open and a mountain of a man with shoulders so broad they strain the seams of his custom suit materializes from the shadowy room behind. “Hey, Comstock. The elevator’s down the hall,” the man says, holding out a fist for Cutter to bump. “Head on down. Trixie should be done with her set in a few minutes.”

  “Sweet,” Cutter says, motioning to me. “Tiny this is Theo. Theo, Tiny, Zane’s business partner and bouncer extraordinaire.”

  Tiny’s massive hand engulfs mine completely as we shake. “Nice to meet you, Theo. We saved you a table a few rows back. Champagne service is included, but let your cocktail waitress know if you want anything else.”

  “Thank you so much,” I say, following Cutte
r across the simple lobby and down a hall lined with offices on one side and thick, wavy glass on the other. Excitement and anxiety build inside me with every step. “I’ve never been to a secret show before,” I whisper.

  “They’re pretty fucking cool,” Cutter whispers back. “I think you’re going to dig it.”

  “Me, too.” I catch my shoulders inching toward my ears and try to relax them. “I don’t know why I’m nervous. You’re the one going on stage.”

  “You worried I’m going to embarrass you up there all alone, without the rest of the band to keep me on task?” He winks at me with a grin, and I shake my head.

  “No, I just…” I trail off, sifting through my thoughts as we turn the corner and head for the industrial elevator that comes into view, its doors already open and waiting. “I just want good things for you, I guess,” I finish softly.

  He squeezes my hand. “Ditto. But I’ve got this, Squirt, you don’t have to stress. If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s music. Even when I don’t have any buddies up on stage with me. So just relax and enjoy the show.” We step into the elevator, and he punches B for the basement level. “But don’t drink too much champagne,” he adds, drawing me closer. “Remember our three-drink rule.”

  I catch his gaze, holding it as the elevator doors slide closed. “Because you want me in my right mind if I decide to do bad things with you tonight?”

  “Because I want you sober enough to enjoy all the good things I’m going to do to you tonight,” he says, threading his fingers into my hair.

  And then he kisses me, long and hard and hungry, and by the time the elevator doors open to the basement, my head is spinning and my breath is coming faster and I’ve completely forgotten that Cutter has to be on stage in a few minutes.

  As soon as we step out, a flurry of activity takes me by surprise as a grinning man in a sparkly silver suit coat whisks Cutter in one direction and a cocktail waitress in a micromini whisks me in another.